Andrew Rivers and Slytherin's Secret
by KennyQ
Summary: It's Andrew's third year at Hogwarts! A mad House Elf is running amok, some students are acting oddly and there has been attacks around the school and no one is safe! Will they discover the mystery behind Salazar Slytherin's secret? Will they save the day once again? Join Andrew, along with Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville and many others in uncovering this dark blast from the past!
1. Chapter 1 - Encounter with a House Elf

Chapter 1 – Encounter with a House Elf

 **Author's Note: Hear ye, hear ye! The second part of the Andrew Rivers saga has arisen! Thanks for the people who have followed " _Andrew Rivers and the Legend of the Stone_ " faithfully! Thanks to the 82 followers and 58 people who have favorited the previous chapter of the saga! I will try to do the Saturday uploading schedule like in the first book unless something happens. Enjoy and remember to read and review!**

 **Disclaimer: I do NOT own Harry Potter nor its universe, only ownership is the Rivers family and other additional characters!**

* * *

The drive back to the Rivers residence in Number 17, Magnolia Road was tense. His father, Anthony Rivers, was giving him a stern look through the rear mirror, while his mother, Janice, was looking at him in a slightly comforting manner. His little brother, Tony stayed silent since he didn't want to get in trouble.

They passed by Privet Drive and saw the Dursleys going in their house. Vernon was trudging the trunk inside while Petunia pushed Dudley inside. When Vernon noticed them, his piggy eyes were fixed at them with maliciousness. A bit farther on, they reached their house. Anthony helped Andrew take out his trunk and placed it at the foot of the bed.

"I'll see you at the living room after you finish unpacking." Anthony said, still with a stern tone.

Andrew went to unpack, the suspense of what his father would want to talk to him about… Probably about the risks he undertook while chasing Quirrell with Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville earlier that month. He started to put into his bookshelf all the books that he wouldn't use this year to open space in his trunk. He dropped his Beginner's Transfiguration book and his Standard Book of Spells Grade 2 onto his bookshelf.

Afterwards, he started sorting out his clothes. He made a mental note to ask his mother for new robes. He had been growing a bit for the past term and he was already an inch taller. Then he sat to make an inventory of his potions supplies. He had to restock some of his stuff, so he wrote them down for when he went to buy his new books for next year.

He couldn't believe that he was already a third year. He was hyped at the thought that he was a year more near to one of his goals: become a Ravenclaw prefect. He snapped out of his daydream when he remembered that his father was waiting for him at the living room.

He sprinted down the hall and carefully went down the steps and popped into the living room, where his father was standing next to the fireplace while his mother sat down with a cup of tea. Andrew cleared his throat and spoke.

"I'm here, dad. What did you want to talk to me about?"

"I wanted to talk about your whole past year, mister. From what I've heard, you've been in a lot of trouble. Care to explain?" One of his brows rose in a questioning way. Andrew had suspected as much. He sat carefully, without breaking eye contact with his imposing father, next to his mother. He was a skinny man, a bushy but slightly groomed mustache (unlike Harry's uncle's, which was a very bushy one), with slightly crooked teeth due to a fight with one of the prisoners at his Muggle work when he tried to escape, effectively breaking his mandible. His black hair was starting to grey in some patches, even when he was an about-to-turn 36 year old. Mostly the stress of being an Auror had been weighing him deeply.

"I… Um…" Andrew stammered.

"So, McGonagall got your tongue?" Anthony smirked. "Professor Flitwick sends monthly letters about his students' academical and social updates. I do congratulate you on being the first place overall in your year group." His father patted his shoulder in congratulations, while sitting next to him on the other side.

"He also tells me about your abilities in Charms that you have shown in the Charms club meetings. Professor Snape also writes from time to time and he is very proud of you." Andrew's heart swelled with pride.

"He also told me about your associations with Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, Neville Longbottom and Hermione Granger, all of them Gryffindor first years, in which you had been part of strange situations."

Andrew gulped and looked at his mother. She looked back at me with a face saying _"Don't look at me; you're the one in trouble!"_ Janice was a plump woman, very similar to Mrs. Weasley. She had jade green eyes, medium length brown hair with a slight curl in the tips. When she was younger (and before she had Andrew), she was extremely skinny, to the point of some of her friends thinking she was sick.

"So, Andrew are you going to answer or not?" His father pressed. "Need some reminders? Troll, Mirror, Dragon, Sorcerer's Stone? Rings a bell?"

Andrew sighed in defeat.

"Yes, dad, I am friends with them. And yes, I have been in those situations that you have mentioned. The troll was trying to save Hermione from meeting certain death after Ron had called her a "know-it-all without friends". The mirror was on Harry's whim of showing us what he saw."

Andrew tensed a bit more with the next topic. "The dragon is a bit longer story. Hagrid played cards with a stranger down at the Hog's Head and he had bet the egg after making him drunk and releasing sensitive information to said stranger. The egg hatched and since it was a safety hazard to his cabin, Harry had the idea of telling Charlie, Ron's older brother to take it to the nearest dragon reserve. We had to convince Hagrid to part with him and Harry, Hermione and I worked a plan to take it to the Astronomy tower where they wanted to rendezvous with us. McGonagall had found us and that's how I got my second detention."

With a last sigh, he detailed the whole ordeal with Snape, Quirrell, You-Know-Who and the Sorcerer's Stone to both of them. After some minutes, his father sighed. Andrew grew worried by the second. His father stood up from the couch and paced towards the fireplace.

"Andrew thanks for being honest with me. I already knew about everything. Dumbledore told me everything. Sadly, since you were a bit reckless, you will be grounded for two week, doing chores and there will be no Potions reading." Andrew tried to convince his father but it didn't work. His decision was final. He didn't actually mind being grounded nor do chores, but being separated from his potions? That was unconceivable! Andrew trudged upstairs, feeling sad. He'll have to manage the whole two weeks without his Potions project. He dropped onto his bed into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

The two weeks had nearly concluded. He did his chores efficiently and without a whine or protest. He decided to write to his friends Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville, Joseph and Gilbert. He sent a quick note to both of his closest Ravenclaw dorm mates and then started writing letters to Ron, Neville and Hermione first since they lived the farthest. His owl Odin had been working non-stop and he worked very diligently and Andrew always awaited him with a large bowl of water and plenty of food. The first of the answers he received was from Ronald.

Thanks to Harry's kindness, Nicolas Flamel had transferred the ownership deed of the house in Devon from Harry to the Weasley clan. Since Ottery St. Catchpole was in Devon, the transfer must've been a short walk. He opened the letter with excitement.

 _ **Dear Andrew,**_

 _ **We've been settling into the new house for the past two weeks. The thing is HUGE! It has three floors, with three bedrooms each floor, and every room has its own bathroom! There's even a library (Hermione and you would be hyped), a Potions lab in the basement (I'll let you see when you come over) and a larger paddock where we can play Quidditch without being seen by the Muggles. Dad shrunk the shed he had next to our house back in Ottery St. Catchpole and brought it here with all his Muggle things, placing it next to the garden Mum has started. She is very glad that the house had a House-Elf with it. Tipper is helping her with the cleaning and the laundering. She doesn't let him cook yet, though.**_

 _ **Mum and Dad have the master bedroom in the third floor; Percy got the medium bedroom in the first floor while the twins got the largest room in the second floor. Ginny got the room next to Percy and I got the one down the corridor near Mum and Dad's. Mum left two bedrooms for Bill and Charlie on the second floor on either side of the twins' room. There's two spare bedrooms, one on the first floor and the one next to mine. We still have the Burrow under our ownership. We'll be fixing it sometime.**_

 _ **I've been trying to write to Harry but he hasn't answered. Could you try and check if the same happens to you?**_

 _ **Take care,**_

 _ **Ron**_

Andrew reread the letter twice. He was happy that Ron had settled in quite nicely. He was very worried that there was no notice from Harry. A few days later, Neville had written.

 _ **Hello Andrew,**_

 _ **It's me, Neville! I hope that everything is going swell so far. I've been working on the new greenhouse that Gran had surprised me with. She also bought tons and tons of plants that I think not even Professor Sprout have back at Hogwarts! Gran is very proud of me for what I can get from her attitude. She told me that you're invited to our house anytime. By the way, heard any news from Harry? I have written twice and haven't received any answer from him. Ron said that he hasn't gotten any signs from Harry either.**_

 _ **Hope we'll see each other soon,**_

 _ **Neville Longbottom**_

 _ **Scion of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Longbottom**_

Harry hasn't been answering to Neville either? He should tell his father about this. It is a very odd attitude coming from Harry. In the meanwhile, he started writing his short letter to Harry. He picked his eagle feather quill, dipped it in his favorite blue ink and started writing.

 _ **Dear Harry,**_

 _ **I hope that the Dursleys are treating you well. I have received letters from Ron and Neville that you are not answered their multiple letters. Is everything okay? I will ask Dad to check up on you if those Muggles are giving you troubles and swoop you here. Then we can spend some time at Ron's new house. I found some interesting stuff you should learn about politics and the Ministry.**_

 _ **Your friend,**_

 _ **Andrew Rivers**_

 _ **Scion to the Noble House of Rivers**_

He promptly folded the note, placed it inside an envelope and sealed it with his personal wax seal: a fancy looking A entwined with an R, signaling his initials. Then, he went to his father's study downstairs, where he was checking some files from his job at the DMLE.

"Dad, may I speak with you?"

Anthony rose his view from the document he was currently reading.

"Sure, kiddo. What's the problem?"

"It's that… Neville and Ron have sent letters to Harry and Harry hasn't answered. I am going to send one myself to see if something's wrong. We are getting a bit worried that the Dursleys have done something to him." His face fell while telling this.

Anthony stopped to think critically. "If something has indeed happened, I will personally bring the matter to the Muggle police force and to the DMLE. Send your letter and if in three days, there is no answer, I will go to Privet Drive to investigate and bring him here."

Andrew cheered up greatly after his father's declaration. He hugged his dad and got his hair ruffled up. He promptly ran up the staircase and when he got to his room, he heard weird sounds from inside. He suspected Tony was being the nosy brat and playing with his stuff. He decided to surprise him and apprehend him red-handed. At the instant he opened the door, a beaten up and very scraggly looking creature was standing on his desk chair, not yet noticed Andrew. It was a House Elf. The Rivers didn't have an House Elf in their house in Magnolia Road, instead they had Looper and Chives in their summer vacation house.

"OI! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?" shouted Andrew like a raging madman.

The House Elf was grabbing with his bandaged fingers his letter with one hand and had a slightly big packet of letters in the other hand. Seeing that he was caught he quickly scampered from the room. Andrew chased him out shouting, making his mother and his brother pop up from their respective rooms, seeing the wacky chase scene. Andrew tried to hold the elf by the arm and Disapparated just at the end of the second floor corridor with a snap of its fingers, leaving the three Rivers with dumbfounded faces.


	2. Chapter 2 - Draco's Deal with the Devil

Chapter 2 – Draco's Deal with the Devil

 **Author's Note: Hello! Here it is! The second chapter of the second book! Thanks to the people who have been reading faithfully the previous book and started this one. As like I did before, shoutouts to the followers of this fanfic: _GM12_ , _IrishKatana_ , _Nanettez_ , _JerichoTa_ _zer_ , _Meester Lee_ , _NaruNaruko-chan_ , _griffin29_ , _harmonysrain_ , _Knight Vigilant Koren_ , _Cereal Killing 101_ , _whiteoaks_ , and _becii._ And thanks to the reviews made to my previous one, _Necromancy94_ and _LadyPhoenix68._ I will try as much as possible to take into consideration your reviews and try to better my work.**

 **Author's Note 2: I hope you are enjoying Hogwarts Mystery since my phone (an LG Phoenix 3) doesn't let me download it. :(**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or its universe! Only characters under my ownership are the Rivers family and the other filler characters.**

* * *

 _Some days earlier…_

Draco Malfoy was mad.

After finishing his first year at Hogwarts, his father had heard that he didn't finish top of his class. Draco was embarrassed deeply. A Mudblood had beaten him to first place! Such lowlife shouldn't be better than him!

On a dry Wednesday afternoon, his father called him to his study. He awaited him, sitting on his desk chair, his back to his son.

"I'm here, Father. What did you call me for?" Draco said.

"Ah, Draco. Sit down" Lucius Malfoy pointed at the seat in front of his desk.

Lucius Malfoy was an older version of his son, long blond hair, pale and pointed face, his stormy gray eyes, glittering with slight malice. He was one of Voldemort's followers, called the Death Eaters. His father had feigned being under the Imperius Curse, one of the three Unforgivable Curses, to evade arrest. He also had pushed some money to the newly elected (at the time) Minister for Magic, Cornelius Oswald Fudge, being the successor to Millicent Bagnold.

Draco sat down in the offered chair.

"Draco, let's talk about your first year at Hogwarts. It seems you weren't as applied as I expected. I even heard that a Muggleborn had been the first in your class."

Draco's anger surged quickly.

"It's that Mudblood Granger, Father. She's one of the biggest teacher's pet, bookworm, and know-it-all I've sadly laid my eyes on! And she's friends with bloody Harry Potter, and those blood traitors of the Weasleys, the Rivers kid and the Longbottom squib."

Draco, after the brief thought of Harry Potter, got even more incensed.

"Stupid Potter and his buddies have been skulking around too much. Potter got lucky and got in the Gryffindor team as a Seeker while being a first year! Dumbledork is bending rules left and right for his bloody Boy-Who-Lived!"

Draco ranted for at least five minutes about the Potter spawn until he changed topic.

"They made us lose the House Cup. Even if we finished in a tie, it is not a full Slytherin win! Apparently, it had to do with a Sorcerer's Stone, Quirrell and apparently, the Dark Lord."

Lucius's eyebrow rose slightly.

"The Dark Lord, you say?" Lucius inquired. Draco nodded.

This had put Lucius on deep thought. Why would the Dark Lord be near British territory if he was apparently dead nearly eleven years ago?

"Draco, you are dismissed."

"But Father…"

"I said you are dismissed. We will speak later on."

Draco left with a huff from his father's study. Just outside the door, a malnourished and hurt House Elf was hiding, hearing everything. He then snapped his fingers and vanished.

* * *

 _A few days later…_

Draco was in his bedroom, finishing the assigned Potions essay from his godfather, Severus Snape. He was working as diligent as possible; his mind was full on beating that Mudblood upstart. He noticed that he didn't quite understand one of the instructions of the preparation of the particular potion. He placed his quill carefully on his desk and walked towards the Manor library.

He exited his bedroom, walked down the long corridor, and went down the stairs to the ground level, and passed the room his mother usually drank her tea, and saw that she was indeed sipping some of her favorite tea. She beckoned him to the chair next to her.

"Hello dear, what are you up to?" Narcissa asked gently.

Narcissa Malfoy neé Black was a fine woman. She was slim, with black hair and blonde bangs, her face not as pointy as her husband or her son's, but she usually had a haughty look like if someone had placed something smelly in front of her. That was her façade while in public. That's what she learned being as a member of the Noble and Most Ancient Family of Black, one of the biggest and staunchest supporters of the Pureblood Supremacy and the Dark Arts.

At her home, she was a completely different person. She cared deeply for her son and her husband. She did not share Lucius's belief on being a follower of Lord Voldemort at all, unlike her sister Bellatrix. She preferred to be as distanced as possible from those troublesome people and don't let Draco near them. Sadly, Draco had been copying off from his father for the past years, spouting all the same things that her husband says.

"I'm going to the Family Library to look up something for the Potions assignment Uncle Sev left us for the summer." Draco answered a bit sourly.

Narcissa noted his discomfort and briefly patted his cheek and kissed her son's forehead. Draco relaxed a bit more and he dismissed himself.

A few minutes later, he opened the doorway of the library. Draco glanced to see if someone was in there. After a quick scan, there was no one. He walked onwards to where the Potions books were placed. Usually, his grandfather, Abraxas Malfoy, had a structured way of placing the books. In this particular area, near the stairway to the second floor of the library, he had the Potions section, followed by some Defense Against the Dark Arts tomes and hidden in between, there was a cache of books of mild Dark Arts. He knew his father had another hideout for more of the harsher Dark Arts articles.

Draco selected a Potions book that had information on the effects of the plants that were used on the potion he was researching. He sat at a nearby desk and read quietly. He took the necessary notes for his essay and replaced the book back in the slot. When he was about to leave, he heard a thump behind him. He quickly turned back and saw a small black book on the floor, and looked to the wall and saw a hidden hole that held the book.

"Huh? What's this?" Draco promptly collected the curious item. He glanced at its cover, and it seemed as a plain diary.

" _A Muggle one, to be exact_ …" Draco thought. He flipped the diary and saw on the back cover something written: **T.M. Riddle.**

"Who could be this Riddle guy?" Draco pondered in a whisper. Suddenly he heard the library door open. Draco flinched and placed the diary back on the hole and closed it, and scampered up the stairs, hiding.

Lucius came from behind the bookshelf, in deep thought, as if he were looking for a particular book. The Malfoy patriarch then walked to the same bookshelf his son was perusing earlier and pulled the book next to the one Draco used and the hidden panel opened. From Draco's point of view, he couldn't see what his father was doing but he decided to shut up and hear.

"Hmmm, I should use this for my plan… I don't know why the Dark Lord entrusted me with this or what is its use. Maybe it's some Dark artifact or something." Lucius paced while talking to himself. Draco heard some shuffling behind some three bookcases away, but he ignored it.

"I should dispose of it. That Arthur Weasley and his inane Muggle Protection Act was validated by the Wizengamot last week and they're doing raids on every magical household. They may suspect me too!" Lucius ended talking with himself for a minute.

" _What had the Dark Lord entrusted Father with?"_ Draco pondered. His father's attitude was suspicious in itself but since it may lead to trouble for his family, he was willing to let it slide.

"Maybe I should use it on that stupid Muggle-loving fool Arthur Weasley… to discredit him and then they can eliminate that lousy law effectively. Yes… that should do… And maybe it can get rid of that old senile coot at once too. And the Potter boy out of the way would be another bonus!" Lucius smirked inwardly and placed the book back, and with a swish of his cloak, left the library.

Draco patiently waited a few minutes while running back downstairs. He grabbed the same book he perused earlier and the hidden panel slid open again. He grabbed the diary and scampered back to his room, unknowingly that someone was looking at him.

"Someone wants to hurt Harry Potter! I is going to help!" the squeaky voice of a House Elf was heard and a crack happened just afterward.

The young Malfoy scion reentered his room and locked the door behind him. He walked to his desk, moved the Potions assignment to the side and opened the diary. As he noticed, the diary was completely empty.

"This is odd…" Malfoy pondered in a whisper. He opened the ink bottle and grabbed the quill he was using to write the assignment and a drop of ink fell onto the page. He flinched when he saw that the ink blot was absorbed into the page and he quickly checked the other pages if the ink passed through, but the other pages were clean.

He reinked his quill and wrote at the top of the page: " _ **My name is Draco Lucius Malfoy, Scion of the Ancient and Noble House of Malfoy.**_ "

Once again, the ink was absorbed into the page and to his surprise a sentence written in someone else's handwriting came to view.

" _ **Greetings Draco Malfoy, offspring of the Malfoy legacy.**_ "

Malfoy snapped of his stupor and decided to answer.

" _ **Excuse me but who are you?**_ "

The same handwriting came up. " _ **My name is Tom Riddle, a previous student from Hogwarts coming from the great house of Slytherin.**_ "

Draco smirked at the sentence and replied. He was warming to the idea of speaking to a previous student of his house.

" **Great! I am also from this great house. I just finished my first year.** "

" _ **Interesting. Who are your teachers? Who is the current Headmaster?**_ " Tom replied.

Draco continued writing to Tom, telling all of the details to the questions the older Slytherin asked him, and Tom told him about his life. How he had gone to school with Grandfather Abraxas, how he became the top of his year during his time at the school, amongst other stuff.

It was already nearing dinnertime when Draco was about to end his conversation with Tom.

" _ **Tom, it's already dinnertime. I will speak to you later.**_ "

" _ **Sure, Draco. I only ask that you hide this diary from prying eyes. I have great ideas to share with you.**_ "

" _ **I will. Talk to you later.**_ "

Draco left his room, just after hiding the diary inside his pillowcase, unbeknownst about the deal he was about to do.


	3. Chapter 3 - The Worst Birthday

Chapter 3 – The Worst Birthday

 **Author's Note: Here is the next chapter. I know that this chapter is OBVIOUSLY the first one of CoS with only some light modification. I've been having a horrible week and I know my attempt at writing fanfiction is a 'shitty retelling of the book' and that 'Andrew is pointless to be in the story'. I do what I want with my story and if I want to do it my way, I will do it like it. I don't have to get sad or depressed for the negative reception of the two stories. I will leave some fixed points of the original story (If something works, why fix it?) and add my changes as I see according. If anyone has any complaints, PM me or look up at the other 749K fanfictions in the page if you're not liking it.**

 **Shout out to the new followers to this story: _kronecker2017_ , _ORKCHILD_ , _msh458_ , _chauntcyab_.**

 **Author's Note 2: I am thinking of doing a competition for the Story Picture for the first fanfiction soon. People interested on the competition, please PM me.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or its universe.**

* * *

Not for the first time, an argument had broken out over breakfast at number four, Privet Drive. Mr. Vernon Dursley had been woken in the early hours of the morning by a loud, hooting noise from his nephew Harry's attic room.

"Third time this week!" he roared across the table. "If you can't control that owl, it'll have to go!"

Harry tried, yet again, to explain.

"She's bored," he said. "She's used to flying around outside. If I could just let her out at night — "

"Do I look stupid?" snarled Uncle Vernon, a bit of fried egg dangling from his bushy mustache. "I know what'll happen if that owl's let out."

He exchanged dark looks with his wife, Petunia.

Harry tried to argue back but his words were drowned by a long, loud belch from the Dursleys' son, Dudley.

"I want more bacon."

"There's more in the frying pan, sweetums," said Aunt Petunia, turning misty eyes on her massive son. "We must build you up while we've got the chance. ... I don't like the sound of that school food. ..."

"Nonsense, Petunia, I never went hungry when _I_ was at Smeltings," said Uncle Vernon heartily. "Dudley gets enough, don't you, son?"

Dudley, who was so large his bottom drooped over either side of the kitchen chair, grinned and turned to Harry.

"Pass the frying pan."

"You've forgotten the magic word," said Harry irritably.

The effect of this simple sentence on the rest of the family was incredible: Dudley gasped and fell off his chair with a crash that shook the whole kitchen; Mrs. Dursley gave a small scream and clapped her hands to her mouth; Mr. Dursley jumped to his feet, veins throbbing in his temples.

"I meant 'please'!" said Harry quickly. "I didn't mean…"

"WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU," thundered his uncle, spraying spit over the table, "ABOUT SAYING THE 'M' WORD IN OUR HOUSE?"

"But I — "

"HOW DARE YOU THREATEN DUDLEY!" roared Uncle Vernon, pounding the table with his fist.

"I just — "

"I WARNED YOU! I WILL NOT TOLERATE MENTION OF YOUR ABNORMALITY UNDER THIS ROOF!"

Harry stared from his purple-faced uncle to his pale aunt, who was trying to heave Dudley to his feet.

"All right," said Harry, "all right..."

Uncle Vernon sat back down, breathing like a winded rhinoceros and watching Harry closely out of the corners of his small, sharp eyes.

Ever since Harry had come home for the summer holidays, Uncle Vernon had been treating him like a bomb that might go off at any moment, because Harry Potter wasn't a normal boy. As a matter of fact, he was as not normal as it is possible to be.

Harry Potter was a wizard — a wizard fresh from his first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And if the Dursleys were unhappy to have him back for the holidays, it was nothing to how Harry felt.

He missed Hogwarts so much it was like having a constant stomachache. He missed the castle, with its secret passageways and ghosts, his classes, the mail arriving by owl, eating banquets in the Great Hall, sleeping in his four-poster bed in the tower dormitory, visiting the gamekeeper, Hagrid, in his cabin next to the Forbidden Forest in the grounds, and, especially, Quidditch, the most popular sport in the wizarding world.

All Harry's spellbooks, his wand, robes, cauldron, and top-of-the-line Nimbus Two Thousand broomstick had been locked in a cupboard under the stairs by Uncle Vernon the instant Harry had come home. What did the Dursleys care if Harry lost his place on the House Quidditch team because he hadn't practiced all summer? What was it to the Dursleys if Harry went back to school without any of his homework done?

The Dursleys were what wizards called Muggles (not a drop of magical blood in their veins), and as far as they were concerned, having a wizard in the family was a matter of deepest shame. Uncle Vernon had even padlocked Harry's owl, Hedwig, inside her cage, to stop her from carrying messages to anyone in the wizarding world.

Harry looked nothing like the rest of the family. Uncle Vernon was large and neckless, with an enormous black mustache; Aunt Petunia was horse-faced and bony; Dudley was blond, pink, and porky. Harry, on the other hand, was small and skinny, with brilliant green eyes and jet-black hair that was always untidy. He wore round glasses, and on his forehead was a thin, lightning-shaped scar.

It was this scar that made Harry so particularly unusual, even for a wizard. This scar was the only hint of Harry's very mysterious past, of the reason he had been left on the Dursleys' doorstep eleven years before.

At the age of one year old, Harry had somehow survived a curse from the greatest Dark sorcerer of all time, Lord Voldemort, whose name most witches and wizards still feared to speak. Harry's parents had died in Voldemort's attack, but Harry had escaped with his lightning scar, and somehow — nobody understood why — Voldemort's powers had been destroyed the instant he had failed to kill Harry.

So Harry had been brought up by his dead mother's sister and her husband. He had spent ten years with the Dursleys, never understanding why he kept making odd things happen without meaning to, believing the Dursleys' story that he had got his scar in the car crash that had killed his parents.

And then, exactly a year ago, Hogwarts had written to Harry, and the whole story had come out. Harry had taken up his place at wizard school, where he and his scar were famous... but now the school year was over, and he was back with the Dursleys for the summer, back to being treated like a dog that had rolled in something smelly.

The Dursleys hadn't even remembered that today happened to be Harry's twelfth birthday. Of course, his hopes hadn't been high; they'd never given him a real present, let alone a cake — but to ignore it completely...

At that moment, Uncle Vernon cleared his throat importantly and said, "Now, as we all know, today is a very important day."

Harry looked up, hardly daring to believe it.

"This could well be the day I make the biggest deal of my career," said Uncle Vernon.

Harry went back to his toast. Of course, he thought bitterly, Uncle Vernon was talking about the stupid dinner party. He'd been talking of nothing else for two weeks. Some rich builder and his wife were coming to dinner and Uncle Vernon was hoping to get a huge order from him (Uncle Vernon's company made drills).

"I think we should run through the schedule one more time," said Uncle Vernon. "We should all be in position at eight o'clock. Petunia, you will be — ?"

"In the lounge," said Aunt Petunia promptly, "waiting to welcome them graciously to our home."

"Good, good. And Dudley?"

"I'll be waiting to open the door." Dudley put on a foul, simpering smile. "May I take your coats, Mr. and Mrs. Mason?"

"They'll love him!" cried Aunt Petunia rapturously.

"Excellent, Dudley," said Uncle Vernon. Then he rounded on Harry. "And you?"

"I'll be in the attic, making no noise and pretending I'm not there," said Harry tonelessly.

"Exactly," said Uncle Vernon nastily. "I will lead them into the lounge, introduce you, Petunia, and pour them drinks. At eight-fifteen — "

"I'll announce dinner," said Aunt Petunia.

"And, Dudley, you'll say — "

"May I take you through to the dining room, Mrs. Mason?" said Dudley, offering his fat arm to an invisible woman.

"My perfect little gentleman!" sniffed Aunt Petunia.

"And you?" said Uncle Vernon viciously to Harry.

"I'll be in the attic, making no noise and pretending I'm not there," said Harry dully.

"Precisely. Now, we should aim to get in a few good compliments at dinner. Petunia, any ideas?"

"Vernon tells me you're a wonderful golfer, Mr. Mason… Do tell me where you bought your dress, Mrs. Mason..."

"Perfect... Dudley?"

"How about — 'We had to write an essay about our hero at school, Mr. Mason, and I wrote about you.' "

This was too much for both Aunt Petunia and Harry. Aunt Petunia burst into tears and hugged her son, while Harry ducked under the table so they wouldn't see him laughing.

"And you, boy?"

Harry fought to keep his face straight as he emerged.

"I'll be in the attic, making no noise and pretending I'm not there," he said.

"Too right, you will," said Uncle Vernon forcefully.

"The Masons don't know anything about you and it's going to stay that way. When dinner's over, you take Mrs. Mason back to the lounge for coffee, Petunia, and I'll bring the subject around to drills. With any luck, I'll have the deal signed and sealed before the news at ten. We'll be shopping for a vacation home in Majorca this time tomorrow."

Harry couldn't feel too excited about this. He didn't think the Dursleys would like him any better in Majorca than they did on Privet Drive.

"Right — I'm off into town to pick up the dinner jackets for Dudley and me. And you," he snarled at Harry. "You stay out of your aunt's way while she's cleaning."

Harry left through the back door. It was a brilliant, sunny day. He crossed the lawn, slumped down on the garden bench, and sang under his breath:

"Happy birthday to me... happy birthday to me ..."

No cards, no presents, and he would be spending the evening pretending not to exist. He gazed miserably into the hedge. He had never felt so lonely. More than anything else at Hogwarts, more even than playing Quidditch, Harry missed his best friends, Andrew Rivers, Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom and Hermione Granger. They, however, didn't seem to be missing him at all. None of them had written to him all summer, even though Ron had said he was going to ask Harry to come and stay and Andrew lived a couple of streets away.

Countless times, Harry had been on the point of unlocking Hedwig's cage by magic and sending her to his friends with a letter, but it wasn't worth the risk. Underage wizards weren't allowed to use magic outside of school. Harry hadn't told the Dursleys this; he knew it was only their terror that he might turn them all into dung beetles that stopped them from locking him in the cupboard under the stairs with his wand and broomstick. For the first couple of weeks back, Harry had enjoyed muttering nonsense words under his breath and watching Dudley tearing out of the room as fast as his fat legs would carry him. But the long silence from his friends had made Harry feel so cut off from the magical world that even taunting Dudley had lost its appeal — and now Ron, Andrew, Neville and Hermione had forgotten his birthday.

What wouldn't he give now for a message from Hogwarts? From any witch or wizard? He'd almost be glad of a sight of his archenemy, Draco Malfoy; just to be sure it hadn't all been a dream. ...

Not that his whole year at Hogwarts had been fun. At the very end of last term, Harry had come face-to-face with none other than Lord Voldemort himself. Voldemort might be a ruin of his former self, but he was still terrifying, still cunning, still determined to regain power. Harry had slipped through Voldemort's clutches for a second time, but it had been a narrow escape, and even now, weeks later, Harry kept waking in the night, drenched in cold sweat, wondering where Voldemort was now, remembering his livid face, his wide, mad eyes —

Harry suddenly sat bolt upright on the garden bench. He had been staring absent-mindedly into the hedge — and the hedge was staring back. Two enormous green eyes had appeared among the leaves.

Harry jumped to his feet just as a jeering voice floated across the lawn.

"I know what day it is," sang Dudley, waddling toward him.

The huge eyes blinked and vanished.

"What?" said Harry, not taking his eyes off the spot where they had been.

"I know what day it is," Dudley repeated, coming right up to him.

"Well done," said Harry. "So you've finally learned the days of the week."

"Today's your birthday," sneered Dudley. "How come you haven't got any cards? Haven't you even got friends at that freak place?"

"Better not let your mum hear you talking about my school," said Harry coolly.

Dudley hitched up his trousers, which were slipping down his fat bottom.

"Why're you staring at the hedge?" he said suspiciously.

"I'm trying to decide what would be the best spell to set it on fire," said Harry.

Dudley stumbled backward at once, a look of panic on his fat face.

"You c-can't — Dad told you you're not to do m-magic — he said hell chuck you out of the house — and you haven't got anywhere else to go — you haven't got any friends to take you — "

" _Jiggery pokery!_ " said Harry in a fierce voice. " _Hocus pocus — squiggly wiggly —_ "

"MUUUUUUM!" howled Dudley, tripping over his feet as he dashed back toward the house. "MUUUUM!

He's doing you know what!"

Harry paid dearly for his moment of fun. As neither Dudley nor the hedge was in any way hurt, Aunt Petunia knew he hadn't really done magic, but he still had to duck as she aimed a heavy blow at his head with the soapy frying pan, evading it successfully. Then she gave him work to do, with the promise he wouldn't eat again until he'd finished.

While Dudley lolled around watching and eating ice cream, Harry cleaned the windows, washed the car, mowed the lawn, trimmed the flowerbeds, pruned and watered the roses, and repainted the garden bench. The sun blazed overhead, burning the back of his neck. Harry knew he shouldn't have risen to Dudley's bait, but Dudley had said the very thing Harry had been thinking himself... maybe he didn't have any friends at Hogwarts...

Wish they could see famous Harry Potter now, he thought savagely as he spread manure on the flower beds, his back aching, sweat running down his face.

It was half past seven in the evening when at last, exhausted, he heard Aunt Petunia calling him.

"Get in here! And walk on the newspaper!"

Harry moved gladly into the shade of the gleaming kitchen. On top of the fridge stood tonight's pudding: a huge mound of whipped cream and sugared violets. A loin of roast pork was sizzling in the oven.

"Eat quickly! The Masons will be here soon!" snapped Aunt Petunia, pointing to two slices of bread and a lump of cheese on the kitchen table. She was already wearing a salmon-pink cocktail dress.

Harry washed his hands and bolted down his pitiful supper. The moment he had finished, Aunt Petunia whisked away his plate. "Upstairs! Hurry!"

As he passed the door to the living room, Harry caught a glimpse of Uncle Vernon and Dudley in bow ties and dinner jackets. He had only just reached the upstairs landing when the doorbell rang and Uncle Vernon's furious face appeared at the foot of the stairs.

"Remember, boy — one sound — "

Harry crossed the hallway on tiptoe, grabbed the attic handle string, pulled it carefully, crept up the stairs and slipped inside, closed the door, and turned to collapse on his bed.

The trouble was, there was already someone sitting on it.


	4. Chapter 4 - Visit of a Tooth Fairy?

Chapter 4 – Visit of a... Tooth Fairy?

Author's Note: New chapter is up! Shoutout to my new follower Maria67!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

* * *

Harry managed not to shout out, but it was a close thing. The little creature on the bed had large, bat-like ears and bulging green eyes the size of tennis balls. Harry knew instantly that this was what had been watching him out of the garden hedge that morning.

As they stared at each other, Harry heard Dudley's voice from the hall.

"May I take your coats, Mr. and Mrs. Mason?"

The creature slipped off the bed and bowed so low that the end of its long, thin nose touched the carpet. Harry noticed that it was wearing what looked like an old pillowcase, with rips for arm- and leg-holes.

"Er — hello," said Harry nervously.

"Harry Potter!" said the creature in a high-pitched voice Harry was sure would carry down the stairs. "So long has Dobby wanted to meet you, sir... Such an honor it is..."

"Th-thank you," said Harry, edging along the wall and sinking into his desk chair, next to Hedwig, who was asleep in her large cage. He wanted to ask, "What are you?" but thought it would sound too rude, so instead he said, "Who are you?"

"Dobby, sir. Just Dobby. Dobby the house-elf," said the creature.

"Oh — really?" said Harry. "Er — I don't want to be rude or anything, but — this isn't a great time for me to have a house-elf in my bedroom."

Aunt Petunia's high, false laugh sounded from the living room. The elf hung his head.

"Not that I'm not pleased to meet you," said Harry quickly, "but, er, is there any particular reason you're here?"

"Oh, yes, sir," said Dobby earnestly. "Dobby has come to tell you, sir ... it is difficult, sir... Dobby wonders where to begin..."

"Sit down," said Harry politely, pointing at the bed.

To his horror, the elf burst into tears — very noisy tears.

"S-sit down!" he wailed. "Never... never ever..."

Harry thought he heard the voices downstairs falter.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "I didn't mean to offend you or anything — "

"Offend Dobby!" choked the elf. "Dobby has never been asked to sit down by a wizard — like an equal —

Harry, trying to say "Shh!" and look comforting at the same time, ushered Dobby back onto the bed where he sat hiccoughing, looking like a large and very ugly doll. At last he managed to control himself, and sat with his great eyes fixed on Harry in an expression of watery adoration.

"You can't have met many decent wizards," said Harry, trying to cheer him up.

Dobby shook his head. Then, without warning, he leapt up and started banging his head furiously on the window, shouting, "Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!"

"Don't — what are you doing?" Harry hissed, springing up and pulling Dobby back onto the bed — Hedwig had woken up with a particularly loud screech and was beating her wings wildly against the bars of her cage.

"Dobby had to punish himself, sir," said the elf, who had gone slightly cross-eyed. "Dobby almost spoke ill of his family, sir. ..."

"Your family?"

"The wizard family Dobby serves, sir. ... Dobby is a house-elf — bound to serve one house and one family forever. ..."

"Do they know you're here?" asked Harry curiously. Dobby shuddered.

"Oh, no, sir, no ... Dobby will have to punish himself most grievously for coming to see you, sir. Dobby will have to shut his ears in the oven door for this. If they ever knew, sir — "

"But won't they notice if you shut your ears in the oven door?"

"Dobby doubts it, sir. Dobby is always having to punish himself for something, sir. They lets Dobby get on with it, sir. Sometimes they reminds me to do extra punishments."

"But why don't you leave? Escape?"

"A house-elf must be set free, sir. And the family will never set Dobby free . . . Dobby will serve the family until he dies, sir. ..."

Harry stared.

"And I thought I had it bad staying here for another four weeks," he said. "This makes the Dursleys sound almost human. Can't anyone help you? Can't I?"

Almost at once, Harry wished he hadn't spoken.

Dobby dissolved again into wails of gratitude. Harry quickly placed his hand on Dobby's mouth, effectively silencing him.

"Please," Harry whispered frantically, "please be quiet. If the Dursleys hear anything, if they know you're here — "

"Harry Potter asks if he can help Dobby... Dobby has heard of your greatness, sir, but of your goodness, Dobby never knew..."

Harry was feeling distinctly hot in the face. He quickly said, "Whatever you've heard about my greatness is a load of rubbish. I'm not even top of my year at Hogwarts; that's Hermione, she — "

But he stopped quickly, because thinking about Hermione was painful.

"Harry Potter is humble and modest," said Dobby reverently, his orb-like eyes aglow. "Harry Potter speaks not of his triumph over He-Who-Must-Not-Be- Named — "

"Voldemort?" said Harry.

Dobby clapped his hands over his bat ears and moaned, "Ah, speak not the name, sir! Speak not the name!"

"Sorry," said Harry quickly. "I know lots of people don't like it. My friends Neville and Ron — "

He stopped again. Thinking about those two was painful, too.

Dobby leaned toward Harry, his eyes wide as headlights.

"Dobby heard tell," he said hoarsely, "that Harry Potter met the Dark Lord for a second time, just weeks ago... that Harry Potter escaped yet again."

Harry nodded and Dobby's eyes suddenly shone with tears.

"Ah, sir," he gasped, dabbing his face with a corner of the grubby pillowcase he was wearing. "Harry Potter is valiant and bold! He has braved so many dangers already! But Dobby has come to protect Harry Potter, to warn him, even if he does have to shut his ears in the oven door later. . . . Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts."

There was a silence broken only by the chink of knives and forks from downstairs and the distant rumble of Uncle Vernon's voice.

"W-what?" Harry stammered. "But I've got to go back — term starts on September first. It's all that's keeping me going. You don't know what it's like here. I don't belong here. I belong in your world — at Hogwarts."

"No, no, no," squeaked Dobby, shaking his head so hard his ears flapped. "Harry Potter must stay where he is safe. He is too great, too good, to lose. If Harry Potter goes back to Hogwarts, he will be in mortal danger."

"Why?" said Harry in surprise.

"There is a plot, Harry Potter. A plot to make most terrible things happen at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year," whispered Dobby, suddenly trembling all over. "Dobby has known it for months, sir. Harry Potter must not put himself in peril. He is too important, sir!"

"What terrible things?" said Harry at once. "Who's plotting them?"

Dobby made a funny choking noise and then attempted to bang his head frantically against the wall. Harry had grabbed him in some sort of chokehold, as like Dudley liked to do to him frequently.

"All right!" cried Harry, grabbing the elf's arm to stop him. "You can't tell me. I understand. But why are you warning me?" A sudden, unpleasant thought struck him. "Hang on — this hasn't got anything to do with Vol — sorry — with You-Know-Who, has it? You could just shake or nod," he added hastily as Dobby's head tilted worryingly close to the wall again.

Slowly, Dobby shook his head.

"Not — not He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, sir — "

But Dobby's eyes were wide and he seemed to be trying to give Harry a hint. Harry, however, was completely lost.

"He hasn't got a brother, has he?"

Dobby shook his head, his eyes wider than ever.

"Well then, I can't think who else would have a chance of making horrible things happen at Hogwarts," said Harry. "I mean, there's Dumbledore, for one thing — you know who Dumbledore is, don't you?"

Dobby bowed his head.

"Albus Dumbledore is the greatest headmaster Hogwarts has ever had. Dobby knows it, sir. Dobby has heard Dumbledore's powers rival those of He- Who-Must-Not-Be-Named at the height of his strength. But, sir" — Dobby's voice dropped to an urgent whisper — "there are powers Dumbledore doesn't ... powers no decent wizard..."

And before Harry could stop him, Dobby bounded off the bed, seized Harry's desk lamp, and started beating himself around the head with earsplitting yelps.

A sudden silence fell downstairs. Two seconds later Harry, heart thudding madly, heard Uncle Vernon coming into the hall, calling, "Dudley must have left his television on again, the little tyke!"

"Quick! In the closet!" hissed Harry, stuffing Dobby in, shutting the door, and flinging himself onto the bed just as the door handle turned.

"What — the — devil — are — you — doing?" said Uncle Vernon through gritted teeth, his face horribly close to Harry's. "You've just ruined the punch line of my Japanese golfer joke... One more sound and you'll wish you'd never been born, boy!"

He stomped flat-footed from the room.

Shaking, Harry let Dobby out of the closet.

"See what it's like here?" he said. "See why I've got to go back to Hogwarts? It's the only place I've got — well, I think I've got friends."

"Friends who don't even write to Harry Potter?" said Dobby slyly.

"I expect they've just been — wait a minute," said Harry, frowning. "How do you know my friends haven't been writing to me?"

Dobby shuffled his feet.

"Harry Potter mustn't be angry with Dobby. Dobby did it for the best — "

"Have you been stopping my letters?"

"Dobby has them here, sir," said the elf. Stepping nimbly out of Harry's reach, he pulled a thick wad of envelopes from the inside of the pillowcase he was wearing. Harry could make out Hermione's neat writing, Ron's untidy scrawl, Neville's tiny penmanship, Andrew's large and roundish words and even a scribble that looked as though it was from the Hogwarts gamekeeper, Hagrid.

Dobby blinked anxiously up at Harry.

"Harry Potter mustn't be angry... Dobby hoped... if Harry Potter thought his friends had forgotten him... Harry Potter might not want to go back to school, sir.

Harry wasn't listening. He made a grab for the letters, but Dobby jumped out of reach.

"Harry Potter will have them, sir, if he gives Dobby his word that he will not return to Hogwarts. Ah, sir, this is a danger you must not face! Say you won't go back, sir!"

This had made Harry rethink the train of thought he just had. He bit the inner part of his cheek in annoyment.

"Can you give me some time to consider the situation? You are practically forcing me to stop my magical education!" Harry said in an exasperated tone.

"Dobby may lets you, but Dobby does not want that great Harry Potter get hurt." The House Elf said, in a slightly relaxed tone.

"So, may I have the letters of my friends? They are probably worried!" he said in a hopeful tone.

Dobby eyed Harry with a dismayed look. His ears were drooping a bit, in apparent surrender. "I is sorry, Harry Potter, for the troubles. I still am watching over youse, Harry Potter." He presented the packet once again, placing it lightly on the boy's outstretched hand, and with a crack, the elf left the room.

Harry's mood skyrocketed when he read all of the multiple letters from Ron, Hermione, Neville, Andrew and Hagrid. He was enjoying every detail of them. He really felt comforted that they did remember his birthday, was surprised that Neville's birthday was yesterday, and he was ecstatic to see Ron's house and spend time with them. Harry flopped happily on his bed, falling asleep quickly.


	5. Chapter 5 - Left Behind

Chapter 5 – Left Behind

 **Author's Note: We're doing some changes soon! The story will deviate a bit more from the canon storyline. Also, I got a job at JCPenney's and start in July. So, starting from July 1st, the updates will be a bit more variable instead of the usual Saturday update. Shoutout to the new followers to this story: _dreamflower02_ and _Nipplegunz._**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or its universe. Special appearance of a character from _Fantastic Beasts: Cases from the Wizarding World_**

* * *

The next morning, Harry woke up after a decent night of sleep. No one had rapped on his door on the attic room. Harry slowly opened the trapdoor to let the stairs slide down and tiptoed down the hallway. At the top of the staircase he noticed that Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and Dudley were dressed to go out. Vernon smirked haughtily.

"Well boy, at least you did your part well. The Masons signed the contract and we basically are set! We…" he pointed at the other members of the family. "…are off to the Real Estate in London to buy that dream vacation home in Majorca!"

Dudley cheered at the declaration.

Petunia smirked. "Finally we can brag about owning our own vacation home! I can't wait to see Yvonne's face when I tell her!" She kissed her husband's huge cheek.

"And you boy, are staying with the old nutter of Figg for the day. Or perhaps the full two weeks we have planned to go there."

Harry groaned. Mrs. Figg was the old crazy cat lady down in Wisteria Walk. Her house smelled like spoiled cabbage and cat litter.

"But what about my school stuff?" Harry asked a bit sourly, walking down the stairs.

"You don't need that trash as you won't be going to THAT school." Vernon's grin grew larger. "Now you are enrolled at another 'school' from now on. It's called St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurable Criminal Boys."

Harry's mouth was opened at his uncle's exclamation. No going back to Hogwarts? Were they going nuts?!

"Come on, we'll lock the house for the time being and we're not leaving you here. Go walk to Mrs. Figg's." said Aunt Petunia. Uncle Vernon grabbed Harry by the back of the shirt and pulled him outside while Aunt Petunia locked the house. The Dursleys entered the car and left Harry on the house's driveway without his things.

Harry sighed deeply. He was very angry at the situation. He walked slowly towards Mrs. Figg's residence. Arabella Figg was the typical, nutty cat lady of the neighborhood. She had tons of cats under her ownership. Her house was very smelly and filled with cat litter. Harry didn't like her house very much since he was a kid.

He knocked on her door and old Mrs. Figg opened the door.

"Oh, Harry! It's so nice to see you! What is the motive of your visit today?"

"Uncle Vernon went to London to buy a new summer house and left me here stranded."

Mrs. Figg beckoned him inside. He sat on the worn out couch while she prepared some tea for Harry and her.

She placed the teacup on the table next to Harry and promptly served him. She looked at him with an owlish look, curiosity clearly portrayed on her face.

"How was school last year? Did you learn a lot?"

Harry stammered. "Errr…" He did not know how to proceed. Mrs. Figg was a Muggle, so he couldn't tell anything about Hogwarts at all, or he'd break the Statute of Secrecy. Luckily, a knock on the front door was heard.

"Coming!" Mrs. Figg shouted. She stood from the old rickety chair and walked to the door. A pudgy, balding man with scraggly stubble, slightly bloodshot eyes, and a very bad taste in clothing came in.

"G'mornin' Figgy. Heard any news?" asked the man. Harry's curiosity gave in and turned around to see the man clearly.

"Mundungus, what are you doing around the area? I hope you ain't running from the law once again!"

Mundungus' eyes flitted quickly, as if he was scanning for someone.

"No, no, Figgy. I just dropped by to check on you, on Dumbledore's order…" He shut his mouth at the sight of Harry behind Mrs. Figg. She noticed that the boy was just behind her and flinched.

"Dumbledore? What does Dumbledore have to do with you, Mrs. Figg? And why do you know him?"

"Is tha' Harry Potter, Figgy?" Mundungus inquired.

"Yes, Dung, shut up and come inside!" She pulled him in with a hard tug and he fell on the floor, with a strange clang. Tons of items were sprawled on the living room floor. Mundungus started to collect them as quick as possible until Mrs. Figg used an umbrella and bonked him repeatedly.

"What. Is. The. Meaning. Of. This?" said Mrs. Figg with each hit.

"Ow, ow, stop it you bloody mad woman!" Mundungus cried, shielding his head. She hit him harder until the umbrella bends on a weird angle. Harry was still confused by this exchange. Mundungus quickly collected the rest of the items and sat down at the couch Harry was sitting.

Harry cleared his throat. "Er-hem…"

Both heads turned toward him.

"Excuse me but care to explain me this, Mrs. Figg? How do you know Professor Dumbledore? Have you been hiding stuff from me all these years?"

She sat down back at the rickety chair and sighed.

"Harry, I am sorry I haven't been honest with you. The real story is that…" One of the cats jumped into her lap and started petting it absentmindedly. "…I am a Squib working under Dumbledore and his secret organization and have been watching you since you were a toddler. I couldn't reveal myself per Dumbledore's orders and I purposefully acted like a batty old cat-loving woman that bored you frequently…"

"You're right abou' the batty old cat-loving part, woman." Mundungus said sniggering. Arabella flashed him an annoyed look.

"As I was saying, I treated you like that so that the Dursleys would let you come. They wouldn't go anywhere where you'd be having fun, do they?"

Harry nodded at her explanation. It was quite reasonable, yet he was still annoyed by the fact that she was hiding that information.

"And who is this man?" He pointed with his thumb at Mundungus behind him.

"Mundungus Fletcher, at your service, Mr. Potter." said Mundungus in a business-like tone.

"He's a good-for-nothing pillaging idiot that Dumbledore has saved his unworthy skin from going to prison, that's who…" grumbled Mrs. Figg, half glaring.

Harry sighed once again, in exasperation. Mrs. Figg continued telling Harry about Dumbledore and how she came to live in Wisteria Walk to keep an eye on him, when he heard a knock on the door.

"Coming!" Arabella sprinted as quick as an old lady could towards the door once more, and when she opened the door there were two men, one that Harry recognized and was happy to see: Anthony Rivers senior.

"Good morning Arabella. Have you seen Mundungus Fletcher around?"

She sighed wearily. "He's inside with Mr. Potter, come in."

"Mr. Potter? Why is he here?" Anthony and his assistant came in. Both of them were wearing modern Muggle detective clothing. A clang and a shout were heard and the other man ran into the kitchen and pinned down Mundungus and placed him under cuffs, and took away his wand.

Harry saluted both men eagerly. He had never seen Aurors in action. Anthony was still thinking worried of why is Harry here of all places.

"Harry, Arabella, this is my new assistant, Cerberus Langarm. He has started Auror training this year."

The dark skinned man had a small straight-lined mustache over his upper lip, dark brown eyes and always seemed a bit sour. He slightly cracked a smile towards Harry but returned to his previous attitude.

"So Harry, why are you here, at Arabella's house?" inquired the Auror.

"They left me locked outside while they went to London to buy their summer vacation home in Majorca. Since they usually left me with Mrs. Figg, I decided to drop by."

"What about your personal and school stuff?"

"Back at the house, but they said I didn't need it because I'm going to a new school called "St. Brutus's… something, something for criminal boys… Can't remember much."

Anthony paced around the living room, with a calculating look in his face. He sighed briefly and he had his mind set on what to do.

"Langarm, take Fletcher to one of the Ministry holding cells. I have stuff to do here. Go and report to Moody as soon as you drop this guy there."

Langarm placed magic-suppression cuffs, flicked his wand quickly and a bunch of tight ropes weaved around Mundungus. He proceeded to Mrs. Figg's fireplace.

"May I use the Floo, Mrs. Figg?" asked Langarm.

"Sure, the powder is in the jar next to the flower pot." she pointed out.

Langarm grabbed Fletcher and collected a bit of the shiny silver powder and threw it at the flames, which turned bright green. He stepped in and shouted "Ministry of Magic!" and the green flames consumed him, vanishing from sight and the flames returned to its original orange color.

Harry saw this with mesmerized eyes, until Anthony cleared his throat to make Harry snap back into attention.

"Harry, if the Dursleys left you on purpose, this may warrant a case with the Child Services Office." Harry slightly flinched.

"There's no need for that. They have been doing that for all my life." Harry then noticed the calculating look on the Auror's face and gulped deeply. He kind of spilled the beans on his treatment by the Dursleys.

"We'll talk about this soon. For now, I'll bring you to my home. I guess Andy will be excited to see you finally. Let's go to your house and bring back your things."

Harry nodded and went with the Auror towards his house. They said their goodbyes to Mrs. Figg and they walked briskly towards Number 4, Privet Drive. While reaching the doorway, Harry stopped in his tracks.

"I don't have a key or can't do magic. My wand is locked up with my school stuff."

Anthony placed a comforting hand on Harry's head and ruffled it slightly.

"Don't worry kiddo. I know you can't do magic since you have the Trace and because you are living in a Muggle area. But I can do magic." Anthony brandished his wand and pointed at the door's lock. " _Alohomora_." The door opened easily and they entered the residence.

"Where is your school stuff?"

Harry meekly pointed towards the cupboard under the stairs. It was also locked heavily. Anthony decided that splitting the work would be better and he sent Harry back to his room to pick up his belongings and his owl. He went behind him halfway up the stairs and saw that Harry pulled the attic trapdoor down.

" _The kid sleeps in the attic? What is going on?_ "

Anthony crept down the stairs and shot another _Alohomora_ at the cupboard's door and it opened. Anthony's eyes couldn't believe what he was seeing. All of Harry's school items were piled inside and what disturbed him the most was that on the other side of the door, he found an engraving that read "Harry's room" and under Harry's stuff, there was an old, tattered cot.

" _Could've Harry been sleeping in here before? Why have these Muggles treated him so despectively? And why my own son hasn't told me anything?_ " thought Anthony.

He shrunk all of Harry's belongings and waited him by the door. Harry came down the stairs with all his clothes crammed haphazardly into a backpack and carrying Hedwig's birdcage with one of his hands. Just when they were about to exit, a sudden flash of lights coming from a pair of headlights flashed the two wizards.

Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and Dudley had just come home from London. Uncle Vernon looked between the boy and the policeman, his face turning redder by the second.

"What is the meaning of this, boy?" His squinting eyes fixed on the twelve year old.

"I'm taking custody of Harry for the rest of the summer. I have seen various irregularities in the couple of minutes I have been here within your household and we will come and investigate, both magical and Muggle police forces. Any problems with it, Mr. Dursley?"

Aunt Petunia flinched and held her husband's shaking shoulder and shushed him.

In that same instant, an owl flew towards the group and dropped a letter. It had the seal of the Ministry of Magic. Anthony looked at the letter and saw it was addressed to Harry. He gave it to the boy and he read aloud. Uncle Vernon's face turned into one of pure anger and suspicion.

 _ **Dear Mr. Potter,**_

 _ **We have received intelligence that an Unlocking Charm was used at your place of residence this evening at eleven minutes past seven.**_

 _ **As you know, underage wizards are not permitted to perform spells outside school, and further spellwork on your part may lead to expulsion from said school (Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, 1875, Paragraph C).**_

 _ **We would also ask you to remember that any magical activity that risks notice by members of the non-magical community (Muggles) is a serious offense under section 13 of the International Confederation of Warlocks' Statute of Secrecy.**_

 _ **Enjoy your holidays!**_

 _ **Yours sincerely,**_

 _ **Mafalda Hopkirk**_

 _ **IMPROPER USE OF MAGIC OFFICE**_

 _ **Ministry of Magic**_

Harry looked up from the letter and gulped.

"So… You didn't tell us you weren't allowed to use magic outside school," said Uncle Vernon, a mad gleam dancing in his eyes. "Forgot to mention it... Slipped your mind, I daresay..."

He was bearing down on Harry like a great bulldog, all his teeth bared. The Auror quickly brandished his wand and pointed it between Uncle Vernon's eyebrows and the larger man faltered.

"Harry, don't worry. It is not your fault. We will go to the Ministry by the beginning of the next week and fix this mess. Can't believe that Mafalda can be so incompetent…"

Anthony grabbed Harry by the shoulder and pushed him towards the sidewalk in front of the house and then he turned on the spot.

"Vernon, Petunia, I am warning the authorities on the mistreatment of this boy. Expect them coming soon."

As soon as he finished saying that, the three Dursleys were left stunned, with their mouth agape, surprised at the turn of events.


	6. Chapter 6 - A Visit to the Ministry

Chapter 6 – A Visit to the Ministry

 **Author's Note: This is considered to be the first part of the Ministry visit since I couldn't finish the whole thing on time (and writer's block is also starting to kick in). I hope you like this chapter. Shoutout to the new follower: _Rantings of a Madman_ for this story, the review from _Meester Lee_ , and the recent followers to the previous story: _barborinka274_ , _Scotfree_ , _Swan out of the lake_ , _Brandz_ , _The Sage of Whirlpool_ , _ChocoGummies_ , _OneHellofAMarshmellow_ , _Iorisuzzan_ , _ditdot777_ , _gothiccountry2223_ , _Cereal Killing 101_ , and _LadyPhoenix68_.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or its universe. Two of the characters that appear by the end of the chapter are from the mobile game: Fantastic Beasts: Cases of the Wizarding World**.

* * *

Harry and Anthony walked for around 15 minutes until they got to the area of Magnolia Road. In a few minutes, they had reached the Rivers household and Anthony promptly knocked at the door. A rush of feet was heard and little Tony opened the door and shouted to the other members in the family inside.

"Muuuuuuuuuuuuum! Andyyyyyyyyyyyyy! Dad's back home with Harry!"

Harry patted Tony's head and the youngster blew a raspberry at him in a jokingly manner. Janice came out of the kitchen and hugged Harry in a motherly fashion. Harry was feeling both embarrassed and pleased at the gesture.

A thud was heard upstairs and Andrew barreled down the stairs, his glasses askew. He crashed on Harry, hugging him tightly.

"Harry, Harry, Harry! I'm so glad to know about you! I've been worried sick!"

Harry was nearly out of air when he slightly patted Andrew's shoulder in warning.

"Andy… AIR!"

"I'm sorry! Come and let's get your stuff to the room." Anthony unshrunk Harry's belongings and between the whole of the Rivers family and Harry, he placed his possessions in the guest room next to the older Rivers' kid room. After finishing, they went back to the kitchen and sat at the dinner table.

Janice had made a simple dinner consisting of lasagna, some garlic bread and a bit of rice, just like Andrew's grandma does it. Andrew was practically drooling by this point of the meal. His mother bonked him lightly on the head with the serving spatula.

"Andy, behave. We have visitors for the time being. Stop acting like that Muggle comic book cat when he sees lasagna." she said while rolling her eyes in fake annoyment. Harry and Tony laughed at Andrew's behavior which warranted a kick on the shins to both kids.

After finishing the dinner, they went to the living room. Harry sat between the two Rivers siblings while the adult Rivers sat on separate chairs. Tony turned to Harry and proceeded to ask a question.

"So, Harry, why have you haven't answered Andy's letter?"

"A House Elf was hiding them from me for some reason." Harry replied truthfully.

"A House Elf?! A weird one stole my last letter directly from my bedroom around a week ago!"

Harry was stunned at the confession.

"He did give them all back to me though."

"Did the House Elf tell its name?" asked Janice.

"It was called Dobby. He was a bit of a nervous wreck, though…"

"I don't know any families with an elf called Dobby. We should go soon to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, specifically to the House Elf Division. They must have a registry of which family owns which elf."

Then, Tony derailed the train of thought that they were on. "Why you didn't answer if the elf gave you the letters?"

Harry gulped a bit. He was unsure of talking about the treatment under the Dursley household, although the elder Rivers already suspected a lot.

"Uncle Vernon locked all my school stuff in the cupboard under the stairs and locked off Hedwig's cage so I couldn't talk with my friends…"

"They did WHAT?!" exclaimed Janice in horror. "How can they do that to a child?! Anthony, we should take this to the Magic Child Welfare and the Muggle Liaison Offices so they can set them straight as soon as possible!"

The lamps rattled ominously, the three kids were surprised at the matriarch's outburst of magic.

"There, there, Janice. We have to go to a bunch of places in the Ministry. I think we have to go on Monday morning to ensure a swift progress. We also have to drop by Mafalda's office to sort out the Underage Warning they sent Harry."

Janice and Andrew looked at Anthony and at Harry, respectively like if they had grown an extra head.

"An underage warning? Harry, you know you shouldn't do magic outside of school." chided Janice.

"That's the problem, dear. He didn't. For some reason, they detected MY magic as if were Harry's."

Harry and Andrew noticed the tense atmosphere once again.

"Incompetent fools… I swear, since Bagnold left her post as Minister and Fudge assumed power, the Ministry has been selecting baboons, trolls and sketchy people for the posts…" said Mrs. Rivers, standing up.

Janice sent the kids up to their bedrooms. Tony ran up the stairs and Mr. Rivers shouted behind him: "Tony, for the love of Merlin, DO NOT RUN IN THE HOUSE!"

Harry went into his room, and a few seconds later, Andrew knocked at his door.

"Hey mate." Andrew walked to Harry's bed and sat on the floor next to it, his back resting on the bed.

"Hey. Sorry I worried you and the others because I didn't answer the letters." said Harry softly.

"Relax Harry. We will fix this mess soon. For tomorrow, you should start to do all of the homework you have to do. We have only a month away for term to start!"

Andrew chatted with Harry about the occurrences in the last weeks. After some while, Andrew left the room and Harry fell asleep, without a care in the world.

* * *

Sunday morning was a tranquil one. Harry, Andrew and Tony decided to play Exploding Snap and Gobstones until midday, when they brought out Harry's textbooks and helped the younger boy with his assignments. Harry completed quickly his essays for Charms, Transfiguration, Astronomy, and History of Magic by himself. Since Quirrell had died before term ended, he didn't have to do an essay for Defense Against the Dark Arts. Currently, he was working on the Herbology essay. Andrew had lent him some extra books on Herbology and Potions.

Janice called the boys inside for lunch, which she prepared some tuna sandwiches and some fresh pumpkin juice. Andrew's dad left after eating his share of the lunch towards his work at the Ministry. He had to report first to the DMLE and then start his shift at Scotland Yard.

Then, after much convincing from Tony, Andrew and Harry went to the living room and started watching some movies in the television until it was time for dinner. Since it was a Sunday evening, Anthony took them out to a restaurant. Harry was surprised at the selection of foods that they had in it. He nearly compared it to Hogwarts in terms of variety.

The next day, Harry woke up early, went to the bathroom to take a shower, dressed up quickly and went downstairs. Janice and Tony were already finishing their breakfast and all dressed up to leave to Diagon Alley, since Janice had to work at Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasion that morning, and she had Tony as her junior assistant.

Anthony had a Muggle suit on, his short hair combed slightly to the left and his mustache was impeccable. He was currently drinking his orange juice, while Andrew was wearing his favorite grey t-shirt and black short pants, and his hair still a bit untameable, yet a little less than Harry's. Harry wore one of the nice dress shirts Janice had given him last year. He wore a particularly green one, which was the same emerald tone of Harry's eyes, with one of the cream colored pants and a pair of sneakers.

"Harry, good morning! Please, eat your breakfast soon since we are leaving to the Ministry today. We have lots of places to visit."

Janice gave her goodbyes to her family and left with Tony through the Floo Network. After their breakfast, they exited the house, locked it and they entered Mr. Rivers' car. They drove to London, and even with all the traffic, they got there in a decent time. They dropped the car in a multi-floor parking lot and went down an elevator and exited the building.

Mr. Rivers directed the boys towards the junction between Scotland Place and Great Scotland Yard, a few blocks from where the Auror worked as an undercover policeman occasionally.

Andrew, Harry and Mr. Rivers entered the phone booth next to the building. They squashed into the small booth and Mr. Rivers grabbed the phone and pressed 62442 at the panel. A voice was heard through the phone's receiver.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. State your name and reason for enter."

"Auror Anthony Rivers and Hogwarts students Harry Potter, and Andrew Rivers, requesting a visit to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and to the Office of Improper Use of Magic."

From where the spare change would drop, three badges dropped, each with their names

The floor of the booth dropped down, like an elevator. The four of them waited and they stopped; the door opening into a large cavernous-like hall. They have reached the Ministry of Magic's Atrium.

Mr. Rivers grabbed his son's shoulder and guided them to a nearby podium, which a sour-looking guard was sitting on a chair next to it.

"Wands please."

The three of them gave him their wands, placed it on a weird looking scale and did some quick notes on a big, heavy bounded book and returned them.

They walked towards the elevators at the end of the Atrium and just when they were about to go in, Harry and Andrew crashed into someone, wearing a fluffy cardigan disgustingly shade of pink.

" _Hem hem_ … Watch to where you're walking!" the woman said. She had brown hair with a tiny bow on it; her body was girthy like a meatball, stubby fingers with tons of rings and the most horrible face they have seen. It was if like some NEWT grade Transfiguration student had attempted to turn a toad into a human and was stuck in the middle.

"Sorry." piped the two teenagers.

"I think you should be more honest with your sorry, kids." Umbridge held Harry and Andrew tightly by the shoulders. "Something like 'We are truly sorry, Madam Undersecretary Umbridge.' or similar."

Someone cleared the throat and spoke in a rather ominous tone.

"Is there any problem, Dolores?"

She turned her head to her left and noticed Anthony standing seriously to the side.

"Oh, excuse me Auror Rivers for my outburst!" she said in a sickly sweet, yet shrill voice. "The kids bumped into me unceremoniously and I just wanted to give them a warning." She tried to grin but her smile looked even more toadlike.

"No need to do that Dolores. You can let my son and his friend Harry alone."

She unhanded the kids and she looked between them and noticed that one of the kids was none other than Harry Potter.

"It's their first time inside the Ministry so it's obvious they are wondered by the sights. So if you may excuse me, we'll take our leave. Good day."

The Auror ushered the boys away from the toad woman and into the next elevator. The number 4 button was already pressed, and the elevator jolted upwards, so they just waited until they heard a voice.

"Level Four: Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."

They exited the elevator. The hallway opened to a wide spaced room, with tons of desks, papers, reinforced cages with different creatures.

"It's like if someone had let loose a whole zoo crossed with Newt Scamander's textbook!"

"Or perhaps, like the book I wrote last year called ' _ **A Children's Anthology of Monsters**_ ' catered to younger audiences."

The three of them turned 180 degrees they found none other than Newt Scamander, in all his 95-year-old glory. Andrew's eyes went wide!

"M-m-mister S-s-scamander! What an honor!"

"Glad to know I still impress people at my age." He laughed heartily and shook hands with the senior Rivers and then with Andy. When he went to shake Harry's hands his bleary greenish blue eyes went wide for a second.

"Mister Potter, I can't believe I am meeting you today. It is so nice to meet you in person." Newt shook his hands fervently.

"Thanks Mr. Scamander. It's an honor myself to talk to you too." said Harry smiling.

"So! What brings you here to the department?"

"We have a situation with a loony House Elf. We wanted to check who owns it. It has been giving us troubles for the past weeks."

"Come, what you are looking for is the Office for House-Elf Relocation. It's within the Beast Division of the department."

Newt guided them down a hallway that had many cages on both sides. They felt like if they walked down a prison hallway. At the end of the passage, there was a door that was marked as 'BEAST DIVISION'. Newt gingerly knocked on the door and a woman opened the door.

"Yes, may I help you?"

"Hello there, Mathilda! It's me, Newt. I brought some people who are inquiring about a slightly rogue House Elf."

The girl referred as Matilda opened the door to let them in.

"Welcome to the Beast Division everyone. My name is Mathilda Grimblehawk. I started this year working here, with my uncle Abraham Grimblehawk. How may I help you?"

Mathilda was taller than the two teens, around 5'5", with brownish red hair made into a plait that she had over her left shoulder. She wore a slate gray blouse and a slightly faded out pair of jeans. She had the air of a slightly ditzy person.

"Hello, my name is Auror Anthony Rivers, from the DMLE. This is my eldest son, Andrew. He is about to start his third year in Ravenclaw at Hogwarts. And this is his friend Harry Potter, who is going to start his second year in Gryffindor."

"Nice t'meetcha! I'll tell Uncle Abraham and Amos to come here." She power walked towards the end of the office, knocked on a door and peered inside. Then, two men exited the office and reached the group.

"Hello, my name is Amos Diggory, and this is my partner, Abraham Grimblehawk."

Amos was a tall man, and he had a ruddy face and a scrubby short brown beard, and he had a pair of glasses perched over his nose. His hair was halfway greyed out and was of medium length.

Next to him was Abraham Grimblehawk. The short man had already balding greyish white hair; his height was nearly the same as Harry's and his owlish eyes reminded him of Ollivander's eyes.

"Mathilda told me you have a problem with a House Elf. If you please, come to my office so we can try to sort it out. Newt, I suppose you came to see Amos for the appointment you asked. He'll see you in the conference room."

Amos and Newt walked away from the group while Abraham shepherded them to the office. He sat at the chair behind his desk and looked at them calculatingly.

"Auror Rivers, tell me about this rogue House Elf."

Anthony, Andrew and Harry told Abraham and Mathilda about Dobby and the mishaps he has been causing. Abraham nodded at the conclusion of the stories.

"So, Mr. Grimblehawk, is there any chance to know who the owner of this creature is?"

"It depends on the security clearance." Anthony's left brow went up in a questioning manner.

"Why the security clearance, Mr. Grimblehawk?" inquired Anthony.

"The Minister has decreed to have some information of the major families as classified, mostly if they have the 'Most Ancient and Noble', 'Most Ancient', and 'Noble' titles, for security measures. I will try my best and will communicate with you if something comes up."

Anthony, Andrew and Harry said their goodbyes to the Grimblehawks and left the office.


	7. Chapter 7 - Enter the Longbottoms

Chapter 7 – Enter the Longbottoms

 **Author's Note: This is the second part of the visit to the Ministry, as stated in the previous chapter's Author's Notes. It is the shortest chapter up to date in the story. Shoutout to the new followers: _JGPhilb15_ and _Bulldogsbecause_! Please read and review!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or its universe, only certain characters such as the Rivers Family and some filler characters!**

* * *

When they reached the elevator, they found Neville and his grandmother, Augusta Longbottom. Augusta Longbottom was your typical fifty five year old lady, tall, thin and bony yet people do not underestimate her by her looks. Many people think that she was a formidable looking witch.

Andrew and Harry smiled at their friend while the Longbottom Scion smiled meekly.

"Hello there, Anthony. How are you?"

"I am doing well, Augusta. I'm surprised to see you today at the Ministry."

"There was a Wizengamot meeting today, and I brought Neville with me. I was going to drop by the DMLE to talk to Amelia real quick. Are you also going up?"

"Yes, I'm going to leave these two at the Auror office while I settle something with Mafalda."

The three men entered the elevator.

"I believe I haven't introduced these two. This is my eldest kid, Andrew and this is Harry Potter."

Augusta, as an imposing woman as she is, looked seriously at the teens and nodded.

"Neville has spoken wonderful things about them. Neville should follow a bit of their example." Neville's face looked crestfallen at the comment. Andrew then interjected.

"Excuse me Madam Longbottom, but your grandson has done wonderful stuff all by himself. There is no need to undervalue him. Just ask him about last year… Ouch!"

Neville stepped hard on Andy's foot with a warning face. Augusta didn't miss this exchange.

"We will speak later about this story, Neville." Neville felt a bit scared and started sweating profusely while looking at the floor. Harry and Andrew glanced at each other, seeing that they had put Neville in trouble with his gran.

The door of the elevator opened and a voice stated: "Level Two – Department of Magical Law Enforcement"

"Well, I think I'll leave Neville with his friends while I talk to Amelia for a while. I hope it is not much trouble, Anthony."

"It's not a problem at all, Augusta. I think that they have a lot to speak between them."

"Thank you. Neville, go on with your friends. I will pick you up later." She walked briskly down to the Head of the DMLE office and the western part of the hall, while the Auror guided them to the Auror offices on the other side.

He had his office nestled between K. Shacklebolt and G. Robards's respective offices.

"Kids, I'll leave you here in my office for a while. I have to go to the Improper Use of Magic Office to set some things straight. Don't do disasters in here please." And with a quick step, he closed the office door.

Andrew turned to see Neville with his back turned to them.

"Nev, we're sorry if we kinda told your gran…"

"Yeah, we didn't know we got you in trouble…" Harry continued.

Neville sighed markedly. "I'm a bit mad that you spilled the beans on what happened at the end of term. I wanted to tell her myself."

"But you did nothing wrong! You helped us down at the third floor corridor!" Andrew exposed.

"I know, but knowing her, she'll think I was just acting as dead weight. She believes I don't have the talent or the bravery that Dad or Mum had before that happened…" Neville said, whispering the last bit.

Harry was a bit confused and tried to see if Andrew understood, and he was correct. Andrew knew what was going on with Neville and his parents. As Andrew saw the confusion in Harry's face, he explained carefully.

"Harry, Frank and Alice Longbottom, Neville's parents, were tortured into madness using one of the three Unforgivables: the Cruciatus curse, by four of Voldemort's followers, one of them, was the most prominent of the lot: Bellatrix Lestrange neé Black. She is one of the most fervent followers of You-Know-Who. She is currently in Azkaban for what happened with them."

Harry's head ran a bit on overclock trying to analyze the information.

"What's an Unforgivable?" Harry inquired.

"The Unforgivable Curses are three spells invented during the early Middle Ages which the Ministry has marked them as prohibited since 1717 and they are a one-way ticket to Azkaban." explained Andrew in a summarized way so Harry could know the basics of them.

Andrew then continued on his lecturing mode.

"The first spell is the Imperius Curse, which takes the free will of the target and has partial to full control. Unlike the other Unforgivables, it is said that being subjected to the Imperius Curse — when adequately cast — is not an unpleasant experience, in fact, quite the opposite; the victim of an Imperius Curse is placed in a calm, trance-like state in which all feeling of responsibility and anxiety is banished. Many known members of our society who have been suspected to be Voldy's followers claimed they were under the Imperius."

Neville cleared his throat and continued speaking.

"The second is the C-c-c-cruciatus Curse. Basically it is used for torturing the target. Constant exposition can lead to madness… Just like my parents…" Neville finished in a sad tone.

"That constant exposition that led to madness of the Longbottoms landed them in the Janus Thickey ward in St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. What I assume that Cruciatus does is that the spell runs on the central nervous system, sending shocks to every nerve. Since the brain is one of the main parts of it, it has affected deeply." Andrew said in a slightly subdued tone.

"And the last one is…"

* * *

 _Earlier that moment…_

Anthony left the office and walked to the left wing of the floor, reaching a door with a plaque that read:

IMPROPER USE OF MAGIC OFFICE

Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office and the Office for the Removal of Curses, Jinxes, and Hexes

 **MARCUS TRAVERS**

MAIN HEAD OF DEPARTMENT

 **MAFALDA HOPKIRK**

ASSISTANT TO THE MAIN HEAD

 **ARTHUR WEASLEY**  
HEAD OF MISUSE OF MUGGLE ARTEFACTS OFFICE

 **MARIANNA OLESKIY**  
HEAD OF THE OFFICE FOR THE REMOVAL OF CURSES, JINXES AND HEXES

Anthony opened the door and went directly to the desk of the one he was looking for.

"Good day, Mafalda." said the Auror tersely.

"Good day, Auror Rivers. How may I help you?" asked Mafalda in a sweet tone.

"I came here because I want to inquire about a mess-up with an official warning." Anthony produced the warning letter and showed it to her. She opened the letter and read it. One of her eyebrows shot up as in questioning what she was reading.

"Mr. Potter received this warning a few days ago when I was extracting him from his home."

"I received a notification from my boss' Trace sensor. Since the letters are sent automatically to the person based on their magical signature that is in the database within the Department of Mysteries, I was surprised that the letter was sent to him. To be honest, it striked me as odd that Mr. Potter had used magic in a Muggle area or in front of Muggles for some reason."

"The thing is that he didn't perform any magic due to his wand being locked away by his Muggle family. It was _I_ who used the Alohomora charm and he got incriminated. I suppose that since the Trace is active on Harry and I am already a certified wizard, the letter got sent to the nearest Traced person."

Mafalda couldn't argue against his proclamation.

"I'll fix this in a jiffy." She entered the small cubicle and brought out the new-looking file of H. Potter. She promptly whispered a spell charmed to her and the warning was removed. "All done! Tell Mister Potter that he is in no trouble with the Ministry. Also, I'd recommend talking to Patrick Silversmith next month since he is on vacation at the moment. He's with the Wizarding Children Welfare Services within the Muggle Liaison office."

"Thank you Mafalda. You have done a great deed today." Anthony replied, exiting her office.

* * *

 _Back at Auror Rivers' office…_

"Avada Kedavra, the Killing Curse." A voice behind them had said. At the doorway, a person stood in the shadows until he entered the office. It was Alastor "Mad Eye" Moody, one of the most famous Senior Aurors of the DMLE.

Harry and Neville were surprised at the entrance of the weathered Auror. Moody had a growling voice and looking as though his face was roughly carved from wood. Due to injuries from his long career as an Auror, it was covered with scars, and a chunk of his nose was missing. He had dark grey, grizzled hair. He also had a wooden leg that was described as having a clawed foot. His eyes, however, were his most shocking feature: one was small and dark while the other was a vivid, electric blue magical eye that moved around independently from his normal eye, giving him the nickname of "Mad-Eye Moody", or simply "Mad-Eye". This eye could see through objects, Invisibility cloaks and the back of his head.

He approached the three students with a ' _clunk, clunk, clunk_ ' until standing next to the desk.

"The incantation of Avada Kedavra causes a blindingly intense green bolt of light to shoot from the end of the caster's wand, which, on contact with the victim, results in instant death. There are no secondary effects; the victim simply "drops dead" for no biological reason. It is possible that the victim's internal organs cease function. However, it seems to be more likely that the method of killing is due to the soul of the victim being magically ripped from their body. There is only one survivor and he's currently in this room."

Moody looked at the boys in a calculatingly way, especially at Harry, which unnerved him. Then he spoke in his gruff voice.

"Laddie, where is your father?"

"He's currently at Mafalda's office." He replied meekly. He wasn't used to talk to Moody much, even if he frequented his father's office.

"Not anymore. Hello, Alastor. Did you need me?" Anthony had appeared back at the office.

"Aye, lad. It's something about Fudge wanting me to retire in a few weeks. I was looking for you and I heard the boys talking about the Unforgivables. I was just telling them about the Avada Kedavra."

"The Killing Curse… It is so creepy and devastating. From my experience in working as an undercover Muggle policeman, the Muggle coroners would be unable to find a cause of death in such an attack, but people who have worked in the Ministry recognize the signs of the curse… Anyways, I fixed everything with Mafalda out. We're leaving soon, just after I speak to Moody for a second."

Anthony and Moody left the office, leaving the boys alone once more until a knock on the door was heard.

"Neville, I finished talking to Amelia. We are leaving now." Augusta called by the doorway.

"Well, see you soon then, mates." Neville called out. On their way out, Anthony bumped on Neville and Neville fell on his bottom."

"Sorry Neville. I didn't see you coming out of the office." He helped Neville stand up. "Augusta, I just found Arthur leaving and he asked me if the kids can visit his house. Ron misses them a lot."

"That would be good. I will Floo him over after dinner tonight. He and I have a pending conversation." Neville flinched a bit and followed his grandmother off. Anthony called Harry and Andrew out of the office and went to the Atrium on the next lift, exiting back through the visitor's entrance.


	8. Chapter 8 - Harry and the Weasley Den

Chapter 8 – Harry and the Weasley Den

 **Author's Note: Chapter 8 is up! It is the longest chapter yet! Shoutout to the new followers: _Heart of a Lion_ in this story and _Pastel dumpster_ and _Silvey777_ for the Legend of the Stone!**

 **Author's Answer to the latest review from The Lonely Geek: Don't worry! Andrew will lose his perfect streak, mainly starting halfway this year and peaking on the next two. And the answer to the second part:**

 **Author's Note 2: The Cover Competition for the two stories is STILL ACTIVE! If interested, send me a PM through my profile to give you the info.**

 **Disclaimer: Harry Potter or its universe is not under my ownership.**

* * *

Anthony, Andrew and Harry went to have a quick lunch before returning to the house. When they got there, Andrew went upstairs. He checked his personal bookshelf and collected some books.

"Harry, sit down and read these books. I found them at the second hand book shop back at Diagon Alley."

Andrew handed Harry a book called: " **The Wizengamot: History and Procedures** ". He quickly opened it and started to read.

 _ **The Wizengamot is wizarding Britain's high court of law and parliament. It predates the Ministry of Magic itself, dating back to the days of the medieval Wizards' Council. It has been in activity since, at least, 1707, when the Ministry of Magic was established, the Wizengamot was incorporated into the newly-created Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Its administrative headquarters are located in said department, whilst the trials take place in the dungeons of the lower levels.**_

 _ **The first Minister for Magic, Ulick Gamp, had previously been Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore is currently holding the position of the Wizengamot, and nearly half of the 20**_ _ **th**_ _ **century.**_

 _ **It is made up of around fifty members. The process for selecting members is unclear, though the Minister for Magic appears to have some power over the final selection. Aside from the judges and the Head Warlock, there is a Court Scribe that records the proceedings while the Wizengamot is in session. The Minister for Magic, the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister and the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement (DMLE), all have been known to attend significant trials and hearings.**_

 _ **There is also the Council of Wizarding Families, a branch of the Wizengamot. It is composed of families that have the Most Ancient and Noble, Most Ancient or Most Noble titles. Depending on the time they have held the family title, it is how the quantity of votes that they are determined to use. Some of the families that are currently in the Council are: Abbott, Bones, Crabbe, Crouch, Davies, Diggory, Dumbledore, Goyle, Greengrass, Longbottom, MacMillan, Malfoy, McGonagall, Nott, Parkinson, Potter, Prince, Rivers, Shacklebolt, Shafiq, Smith, Travers and Urquhart. Currently dormant houses are the Founders houses (Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin), the Black and Lestrange families (due to the heads being imprisoned), Prewett family (due to being a patriarchal line and the only survivor is female), and the Weasley family.**_

"That is a lot of information! I didn't know that my family had a chair in the Council!" Harry exclaimed, eyes rising from reading the book.

"Yeah you do. The one holding the vote for the Potter chair is Dumbledore himself, acting as a proxy until you turn 15, as you are an orphan. Otherwise you would've been eligible at 17 or when your predecessor, in your case, the late James Potter, retired. In my case, Grandpa Louis has our chair. In Nev's case, Augusta has the chair due to Frank Longbottom being incapacitated." Andrew explained.

Andrew and Harry kept talking about what Harry was reading; slowly processing the information he would sure need in the future.

* * *

 _Meanwhile…_

Neville was dreading the talk with his grandmother. He knew he didn't do anything bad, but the unexpectedness of her reaction had him on edge. He approached the tea room, where Augusta was waiting for him. He knocked and he heard her answer.

"Come in, Neville."

Neville opened the door and approached the chair next to her grandmother.

"Please, sit down. We have to talk."

Neville sat down, looking at his feet nervously. Augusta was watching him like a hawk.

"So, my dear grandson, what happened at the end of last term that you had to stop Anthony's kid from talking?"

Neville stuttered the whole story, starting from after falling on Flying class up until the Quirrell chase. Her expressions were turning grimmer by the minute. Neville finished the story, nearly wheezing for air. He tried to say everything in one sitting, as Hermione would've done.

She stood up, walked towards the window and placed her hand at the windowsill. She sighed deeply.

"Neville, you were scared that I would've gotten angry at you because of it?" Augusta questioned.

"Y-y-yes, Gran." Neville answered meekly.

She sighed again. "Although some of the things you five did were indeed reckless, I am proud of you that even with your limitations and your self-doubts, you helped them incredibly." She walked and placed her slightly wrinkly hand on her grandson's cheek. "I am proud of you, dear."

Neville's head nearly unhinged from his neck when he raised his head to see his grandma, flabbergasted. He did not expect the outcome. He then stood up and he hugged her tightly, which she returned tenderly.

The Longbottoms let go of the hug and then the strongheaded matriarch walked to the door. She called behind him:

"What are you waiting for? Let's tell Lunker and the other elves to pack your stuff and to make our dinner, and I'll tell them to do your favorite plates."

Neville rose from the chair and followed his Gran off to the Dining Hall.

* * *

 _At the Rivers residence…_

The Rivers plus Harry had a great meal, this time done by Anthony himself. After finishing, they went to the living room, waiting for Neville to come by Floo. At quarter past eight, the fireplace flashed green and Augusta and Neville appeared.

"Thanks for hosting Neville for the night. He has everything prepared for the new school term, except the books and some other extra needs." Augusta said warmly. She turned to Neville. "I expect you to do well during your stay at the Weasleys. I will see you on September 1st at King's Cross. I will visit Algie and Enid at their summer home in Spain." She patted Neville's left cheek sweetly and left through the Floo once more.

Andrew, Tony and Harry helped Neville stay at the guest room where Harry was staying and after much talking, the teens went to sleep. That morning, Harry, Neville, and Andrew waited by the entrance of the house for the Weasleys to come and pick them up. Their school trunks and the cages of Hedwig and Odin respectively were piled up neatly.

A swift knock on the door and Andrew opened the door. Four redheads were standing outside.

"Hey Andy! Hey Neville! Hey Harry! Glad to see you mates!"

Ron Weasley, his twin brothers Fred and George were greeting them with big smiles.

Mr. Weasley was standing next to a blue Ford Anglia with his glasses off and his eyes focused on cleaning the lenses. He was a thin man, going bald, but the little hair he had was as red as any of his children's. He was wearing long green robes, which were dusty and travel-worn.

"Hello Mr. Potter, Mr. Rivers, Mr. Longbottom. My name is Arthur Weasley, nice to meet you." Mr. Weasley shook their hands vigorously.

With the combined effort of Mr. Weasley and Mr. Rivers, Harry's, Andrew's and Neville's trunks were placed in the car's oddly wide trunk. Andrew's curiosity got the best of him and asked Mr. Weasley.

"Um, excuse me, Mr. Weasley?"

"Yes, Andrew?"

"Why the car's trunk is so big? It's not normal… Did you apply an expansion charm?"

Mr. Weasley smiled. "As sharp as Ron and the twins say… Yes, I applied an extension charm. It's hard to fit all of the members of my family in one vehicle, don't you think?"

Mr. Rivers was a bit proud at his son's observational skills yet something stroked him as odd.

"An expansion charm? You know that those are regulated, Arthur. Did you submit that paperwork?" Anthony asked critically.

Arthur Weasley's ears turned reddish pink, a signature sign of the Weasley clan that showed that they are either under pressure, embarrassed or repressing anger. In this case, Arthur's face was more of embarrassment.

"O-of course I did, Anthony? I AM a Ministry worker and a Head of Department too… I'm not like some others that skip basic procedures…"

Anthony laughed at Arthur's reaction. "Relax Arthur, I was joking!"

"I'm glad Andrew had got you out of the Dursleys and we came to get you for the rest of the summer, anyway," said Ron. "I was getting really worried when you didn't answer any of my letters. I thought it was Errol's fault at first –"

"Who's Errol?"

"Our owl. He's ancient. It wouldn't be the first time he'd collapsed on a delivery. So then I tried to borrow Hermes — "

"Who?"

"The owl Mum and Dad bought Percy when he was made prefect," said Fred from the front.

"But Percy wouldn't lend him to me," said Ron. "Said he needed him."

"Percy's been acting very oddly this summer," said George, frowning. "And he has been sending a lot of letters and spending a load of time shut up in his room... I mean, there are only so many times you can polish a prefect badge..."

"What does your dad do at the Ministry of Magic, anyway?"

"He works in the most boring department," said Ron. "The Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office."

"The what?"

"Ronald, it's not the most boring department." Mr. Weasley chided to his youngest son. "It's all to do with bewitching things that are Muggle-made, you know, in case they end up back in a Muggle shop or house. Like, last year, some old witch died and her tea set was sold to an antiques shop. This Muggle woman bought it, took it home, and tried to serve her friends tea in it. It was a nightmare — I was working overtime for weeks."

"What happened?"

"The teapot went berserk and squirted boiling tea all over the place and one man ended up in the hospital with the sugar tongs clamped to his nose. I was going frantic — it's only me and an old warlock called Perkins in the office — and we had to do Memory Charms and all sorts of stuff to cover it up —"

"Oh, we're here!" Ron exclaimed. Harry, Neville and Andrew peered through the enlarged window. It was an enormous brick house, with a lovely porch painted in white, a very fancy fence and a wide driveway. Around the front door lay a jumble of rubber boots and a very rusty cauldron. Several fat brown chickens were pecking their way around the yard.

They got out of the car.

Mrs. Weasley was marching across the yard, scattering chickens, and for a short, plump, kind- faced woman, it was remarkable how much she looked like a saber-toothed tiger.

"I'm very pleased to see you, Harry, dear," she said. "Come in and have some breakfast."

She kissed her husband and turned and walked back into the house and Harry, after a nervous glance at Ron, who nodded encouragingly, followed her.

The kitchen was a bit bigger than the Dursleys. There was a long wooden table and chairs in the middle, and Harry sat down on the edge of his seat, looking around. He had never been in a real wizard house before. Andrew's house didn't count much since it was in a Muggle suburb.

The clock on the wall opposite him had only one hand and no numbers at all. Written around the edge were things like _Time to make tea_ , _Time to feed the chickens_ , and _You're late_. Books were stacked three deep on the mantelpiece, books with titles like _Charm Your Own Cheese_ , _Enchantment in Baking_ , and _One Minute Feasts — It's Magic!_ And unless Harry's ears were deceiving him, the old radio next to the sink had just announced that coming up was "Witching Hour, with the popular singing sorceress, Celestina Warbeck."

"I don't blame you, dear," she assured Harry, tipping eight or nine sausages onto his plate. "Arthur and I have been worried about you, too. Just last night we were saying we'd come and get you ourselves if you hadn't written back to Ron by Friday." She was now adding three fried eggs to his plate, and then, she flicked her wand casually at the dishes in the sink, which began to clean themselves, clinking gently in the background.

At that moment there was a diversion in the form of a small, redheaded figure in a long nightdress, who appeared in the kitchen, gave a small squeal, and ran out again, a door being slammed shut nearby.

"Ginny," said Ron in an undertone to Harry. "My sister. She's been talking about you all summer."

"Yeah, she'll want your autograph, Harry, and even more since her birthday is tomorrow!" Fred said with a grin, but he caught his mother's eye and bent his face over his plate without another word. Nothing more was said until all six plates were clean, which took a surprisingly short time.

"Let's leave them to it," Ron muttered to Harry as Mrs. Weasley swelled like a bullfrog. "Come on, I'll show you my bedroom."

They slipped out of the kitchen, passed the foyer and down the hallway with a staircase on the end. On the third door in that same hallway, a door stood ajar. Harry just caught sight of a pair of bright brown eyes staring at him before it closed with a snap.

"Ginny," said Ron. "You don't know how weird it is for her to be this shy. She never shuts up normally — "

They climbed two more flights until they reached a door with a small plaque on it, saying RONALD'S ROOM.

Harry, Andrew and Neville stepped in, and blinked. It was like walking into a furnace: Nearly everything in Ron's room seemed to be a violent shade of orange: the bedspread, the walls, even the ceiling. Then Harry realized that Ron had covered nearly every inch of the shabby wallpaper with posters of the same seven witches and wizards, all wearing bright orange robes, carrying broomsticks, and waving energetically.

"Your Quidditch team?" said Harry.

"The Chudley Cannons," said Ron, pointing at the orange bedspread, which was emblazoned with two giant black C's and a speeding cannonball. "Ninth in the league."

"Harry, do note that the British Quidditch League has currently nine teams, so the Cannons are in last place, like always…"

Ron's ears flushed red and threw a pillow towards Andy's face, hitting him. Andrew poked his tongue out childishly.

Ron's school spellbooks were stacked untidily in a bookshelf, next to a pile of comics that all seemed to feature The Adventures of Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle. Ron's magic wand was lying on top of a fish tank full of frog spawn on the windowsill. Harry stepped over a pack of Self-Shuffling playing cards on the floor and looked out of the window.

A shed was placed around 15 feet away from the manor, a large paddock where the Weasley kids flew their broomsticks, and next to it a rather large vegetable garden, in which the House Elf was currently working at. It was tugging at the ground, when suddenly, Tipper fell on his butt with a very long carrot in its hands.

Harry, grinning widely, said, "This is the best magical house I've ever been in." Andrew and Neville nodded at their friend's words.

Ron's ears went pink. Andrew approached the bookshelf and organized it neatly, by subject, and then he placed the comic books in order.

"Much better! Ronald, you should clean up a bit more, because then, someone would think that a troll lives in this room." Andrew drawled.

Harry and Neville sniggered at Andrew's words

The Weasley boys led Harry, Neville and Andrew to their rooms. Neville and Harry would be sharing one while Andrew had one for himself. They dropped their belongings and returned to Harry's room.

Harry told them all about Dobby, the warning he'd given Harry and how he told the elf he'd consider his warning. There was a long, shocked silence when he had finished.

"Very fishy," said Fred finally.

"Definitely dodgy," agreed George. "So he wouldn't even tell you who's supposed to be plotting all this stuff?"

"I don't think he could," said Harry. "I told you, every time he got close to letting something slip, he started banging his head against the wall."

He saw Ron, Andrew, Neville, Fred and George look at each other.

"What, you think he was lying to me?" said Harry.

"Well," said Fred, "put it this way — house-elves have got powerful magic of their own, but they can't usually use it without their master's permission. I reckon old Dobby was sent to stop you coming back to Hogwarts. Someone's idea of a joke. Can you think of anyone at school with a grudge against you?"

"Yes," said the four other together, instantly.

"Draco Malfoy," Harry explained. "He hates me."

"Draco Malfoy?" said George, turning around. "Not Lucius Malfoy's son?"

"Must be, it's not a very common name, is it?" said Harry. "Why?"

"I've heard Dad talking about him," said George. "He was a big supporter of You-Know-Who."

"And when You-Know-Who disappeared," said Fred, craning around to look at Harry, "Lucius Malfoy came back saying he'd never meant any of it. Load of dung — Dad reckons he was right in You-Know- Who's inner circle."

Harry had heard these rumors about Malfoy's family before, and they didn't surprise him at all. Malfoy made Dudley Dursley look like a kind, thoughtful, and sensitive boy.

"I don't know whether the Malfoys own a house-elf..." said Harry.

"Well, whoever owns him will be an old wizarding family, and they'll be rich," said Fred.

"Yeah, Mum's always had wished we had a house-elf to do the ironing," said George. "But all we've had was a lousy old ghoul in the attic and gnomes all over the garden back at the Burrow. House-elves come with big old manors like this one and castles and places like that; you wouldn't catch one in our old house..."

Harry was silent. Judging by the fact that Draco Malfoy usually had the best of everything, his family was rolling in wizard gold; he could just see Malfoy strutting around a large manor house. Sending the family servant to stop Harry from going back to Hogwarts also sounded exactly like the sort of thing Malfoy would do. Had Harry been stupid to take Dobby seriously?

They kept talking until dinnertime was announced by Tipper, and then proceeded to the dining room. It had an even more ornate table, with a regal chandelier on it. It seems that Nicolas Flamel didn't go by simple. Harry was astounded at the quantity of pictures of the Weasley Family that were hung on the wall and Andrew noticed a peculiar looking clock.

It had nine hands and in the hands it had a small picture of each of the Weasley members, the two longest were Mrs. and Mr. Weasley's, followed by Bill, the eldest son, Charlie, the dragonologist, Percy the prefect, the prankster twins, Ron's and the shortest was for the youngest and the only female child, Ginny. Around the clock, there were phrases instead of numbers. Phrases such as _**Work**_ , _**School**_ , _**Lost**_ , _**Traveling**_ , _**Home**_ and where the 12 would be placed was _**Mortal Peril**_.

Mrs. Weasley and Tipper had outdone themselves with the large and mouthwatering dinner they had made for them. Ron, as usual, was eating like if someone were to take his food away, Percy and Andrew were having a small conversation about his electives and Prefectship, Harry and Neville were laughing at the antics made by the twins, Ginny all shy, while her mother patted her cheek endearingly and the Weasley patriarch was glad at the family time.

After eating some treacle tart for dessert, Molly shooed the kids to their respective rooms. Ginny, Percy, Neville and Harry went to their respective rooms, the twins stayed at the second floor landing while Ron and Andrew continued to the third floor. Ron said his good nights to Andy and shut the door behind him. The Ravenclaw walked slowly towards his room and sat on the bed, collected the Potions notebook he had and read some of the annotations he had made, until he was too groggy to continue and fell asleep with his notebook on his chest.

The next morning, Tipper was waking everyone in the household per Molly's orders. As Andrew stretched up and grabbed a change of clothes, he took a quick shower, cleaned his teeth and changed into the cleaner clothing. He reentered the bedroom, dropped the dirty clothes and picked up his glasses and the notebook that had fallen to the floor and went downstairs for breakfast.

At the table, he sat next to a nervous Ginny. She was sneaking looks at Harry without him noticing, yet Andrew noticed it.

"So, it seems you fancy little Harry, eh Ginny?"

Ginny squeaked out of embarrassment and her face turned the usual Weasley red.

"N-n-n-no…" Ginny stammered.

"I know you do. Relax, I won't tell him." Andrew whispered. "By the way, my name is Andrew Rivers. Nice to meetcha!"

Ginny greeted him and relaxed a bit more. She even talked to him without any insecurity.

Arthur then left the dinner table, grabbed the cloak from the coat hanger, kissed his wife and said goodbyes to his children and he left to work. Molly then gave the kids a round of hot cocoa and Tipper produced some chocolate chip cookies for them. Ron started grabbing them like a madman until the matriarch bonked him on the head with the wooden spoon. Everyone laughed at Ron's embarrassing moment. Then, everyone left the room to sleep.

* * *

The next morning, Andrew woke up early. He went to the bathroom just in front of his room before Ron woke up. He took a lukewarm shower and relaxed. He dried himself and started to clean his teeth, when he heard a knock on the bathroom door.

"Andrew, is that you?" Molly said. "We'll be waiting you on the kitchen. Please wake up Ronald on the way down." Her steps faltered away from the door. He finished quickly and promptly went to Ron's door and knocked on it.

"Ron, wake up! Your mother called for breakfast!"

He heard a clunk and an "OW!" at the other side. Andrew laughed at Ron's reaction. He picked up his notebook and left to the kitchen. When he got there, Harry, Neville, Fred, George, Ginny and Percy were already there. Ron came tumbling downstairs a few seconds later, still in his pajamas.

Molly started serving breakfast while Tipper placed the forks and knives. Suddenly, the door opened and saw Mr. Weasley come in, with a tired look on his face. He plunked on the first chair and drew a long, tired breath.

"What a night," he mumbled, groping for the teapot as they all sat down around him. "Nine raids. Nine! And old Mundungus Fletcher tried to put a hex on me when I had my back turned..."

Mr. Weasley took a long gulp of tea and sighed. Mrs. Weasley placed a plate with breakfast in front of her husband, which he smiled at.

"Find anything, Dad?" said Fred eagerly.

"All I got were a few shrinking door keys and a biting kettle," yawned Mr. Weasley. "There was some pretty nasty stuff that wasn't my department, though. Mortlake was taken away for questioning about some extremely odd ferrets, but that's the Committee on Experimental Charms, thank goodness. ..."

"Why would anyone bother making door keys shrink?" said George.

"Just Muggle-baiting," sighed Mr. Weasley. "Sell them a key that keeps shrinking to nothing so they can never find it when they need it... Of course, it's very hard to convict anyone because no Muggle would admit their key keeps shrinking — they'll insist they just keep losing it. Bless them, they'll go to any lengths to ignore magic, even if it's staring them in the face..."

"Arthur, after you eat your breakfast, go take a nap and then we will finish cleaning the Burrow." Molly said tenderly.

"Sure will, Molly." Arthur stood up and went to the living room, and took his well-deserved nap.

At noon, the Weasley clan plus Andrew, Harry and Neville were going inside the enchanted Ford Anglia. They exited their manor grounds and went westward, towards Ottery St. Catchpole. They went into the village and then he took a right, through a rocky and disheveled path until they reached a stone fence. Arthur turned off the car and everyone was going out. Andrew, Harry and Neville were mystified by what they were seeing.

It looked as though it had once been a large stone pigpen, but extra rooms had been added here and there until it was several stories high and so crooked it looked as though it were held up by magic (which, Harry reminded himself, it probably was). Four or five chimneys were perched on top of the red roof. A lopsided sign stuck in the ground near the entrance read, THE BURROW.

"So, this was your previous residence?" asked Neville.

"Yeah, pretty weird looking, eh?" Fred said. George sniggered slightly after hitting his twin brother on the back of his head because of the offhanded comment.

"But at least we had somewhere to live in. Something we could call ours." Ron smiled wistfully, while his mother patted his head at the beautiful words her son spoke.

"You're right Ron. We didn't possibly have the luxuries and the commodities we have now but we had each other and love never waned in our family." She said joyously, but with tearful eyes.

The Weasley clan, Harry, Andrew and Neville entered the house. It looked somewhat bare without all of their belongings in place. They packed the remaining items in the boxes that were piled up in the kitchen and Molly directed them outside to degnome and weed out the garden. After some while, they cleaned a bit and they returned home to rest.


	9. Chap 9 - Winning Smiles Can't Teach

Chapter 9 – Winning Smiles Can't Teach Properly

 **Author's Note: A short chapter, giving a bit of background and presenting another member of the Rivers Family. This had to be a quick upload since I have babysitting duties in a few. Shoutout to the new followers and people who have put favorites to the first story: _Cielo V27_ and _Jwugetmoney_! Also, as you may have seen, we have new story covers! These were made by _The Lonely Geek_! There will be a contest for the story cover of the third book but we'll cross that bridge when we get there.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or its universe.**

* * *

A few weeks later after the term ended, Dumbledore was in his office. He was sitting calmly in his chair, thinking how to work around his current conundrum. With Quirrell's death from the possession of Lord Voldemort last June, he was stuck once again without a Defense Against the Dark Arts. He knew that the curse for that particular class was still active all these years.

He had posted a hiring announcement on the Daily Prophet and through the Wizarding Wireless Network, or WWN, the only wizard-managed radio broadcast station. Not many applications have been received. To be honest, only one application has been received in the past two weeks.

Gilderoy Lockhart had expressed his interest in educating the young wizarding minds of this generation. To be honest, Albus Dumbledore was feeling a bit off on the idea of hiring Lockhart.

He may have been a Ravenclaw, but he hasn't used the knowledge or the sagacity that represents the house.

"If no one applies in the following week, I'll have to say yes to him." whispered Dumbledore to himself.

* * *

 _A week after…_

Gilderoy Lockhart was finishing an interview for Teen Witch Weekly in the Daily Prophet's HQ in Diagon Alley. He successfully answered all the questions and also gave promo to his new book "Magical Me", and his other works.

"Ah, another satisfying job done well. Now, I should drop by Flourish and Blotts to coordinate the book signing for mid-August…"

He was walking towards the Leaky Cauldron when a brown owl flew towards him and left a letter in his hands and some droppings on his perfect forget-me-not blue hat. He shouted at the damned owl and a quick _Scourgify_ fixed everything. Then, he noticed who had written him.

"Could it be? Dumbledore has selected me as the new Defense professor?" He quickly opened the letter in anticipation.

 _ **Dear Gilderoy Lockhart,**_

 _ **It pleases me to inform you that you have been selected as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor for the 1992-1993 academic term. Please report yourself to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry by next Wednesday to sign your contract. Also, please have a course plan by then, since it will be needed to be approved by the Board of Governors.**_

 _ **Signed,  
Albus Dumbledore**_

 _ **Headmaster of Hogwarts**_

Lockhart jumped up and down in glee, lacking all of the decorum that a celebrity like him would have.

" _Now I will have an excuse for not having another book beside Magical Me printed out._ " he thought.

By the next Wednesday, Gilderoy Lockhart had Flooed to the Three Broomsticks, one of the bars in Hogsmeade. He approached the counter and smiled at the barmaid.

"Good day, Rosmerta! How are you in this fine morning?" Lockhart said.

"Well if it's Mr. Witch Weekly's Most-Charming-Smile Award." said Rosmerta sarcastically.

Lockhart's smile faltered slightly and feigned ignorance.

"Now, now, dear there's no need to be so rough." He winked at her.

"Look, Gilderoy, if it weren't because Albus asked me to have the Floo Network connection open for you, you'd be rocketing back upwards in the fireplace. So, hurry up and go to Hogwarts before I beat you up with my trusty broomstick until I break it on your head and shove the tail end up your pretty boy rear. UNDERSTOOD?"

Lockhart blanched and ran out the door, his hat askew. One of the clients came out of the bathroom.

"What in tarnation was tha', Merty?" the big-bellied Louie Rivers asked, sitting on one of the bar stools with his usual mug of Butterbeer.

"A jackass came over. It's already dealt with." she replied tersely.

"So, the scruffin' Lockhart at it again?" he inquired, finishing the current mug.

"Indeed." she grumbled while refilling the mug.

"He has some nerve to appear around here after trying to Obliviate your niece after molesting her." Louis said grimly.

"Don't even remind me that. If it weren't for you and your son, he'd be having his bits cursed off." Rosmerta replied, with a sad tone in her words.

Louis checked his pocket watch and nodded to himself. He then pulled off a bunch of sickles and dropped them at the counter.

"Thanks for the Butterbeer, Merty. I should go, since old Martha should be finishing dinner by now."

"Thank you for your continued patronage, Lou. Say hi to your dear wife!" He nodded and hobbled out of the bar.

* * *

Dumbledore just finished rechecking some documents he had received the previous day from the ICW when he heard the characteristic tinkle of when someone had crossed his wards.

"Come in, Gilderoy." Dumbledore spoke.

"Hello, Albus! What a nice day, isn't it?" Lockhart said in his 'dreamy' voice.

"Yes, it is a rather lovely day." He gestured the young to-be-Professor to the chair in front of his desk. "Did you bring the lesson plan for all the school year?"

Lockhart's smile faltered slightly.

"Ah, I knew I forgot something. But no fear, I do remember what I was going to be teaching this year!"

"Well, do tell." the Headmaster said, with a curious tone.

After a couple of minutes, Lockhart finished telling the wizened Headmaster of Hogwarts about his 'supposed' lesson plan.

"…and that's the reason why I need that all my books should be assigned as textbooks. The children will know about how to deal with dark creatures efficiently." He finished with a smile.

"Well, I suppose I can submit this to the Board of Governors. For the time being, prepare your things and settle into your office. It's on the second floor this year." Dumbledore produced a key to the office.

"Well thank you, Albus! I'll be bringing my things little by little. I also have to prepare for my books signing next week, so ta tá!"

And with a flourished goodbye, Lockhart left the office. Dumbledore sighed tiredly and contemplated the current situation. He then turned to his familiar, Fawkes the phoenix, which was perched on its bird stand.

"Fawkes, please call over Minerva and Severus." The phoenix trilled and with a flash of fire, left the Headmaster's office. Some minutes later, the phoenix reappeared.

"I assume that they got the message?" Albus asked the creature. The bird trilled happily in confirmation.

All of a sudden, he felt the wards near the gargoyle that protected the entrance go off. The door was knocked and he replied with a "Come in," and the door opened.

Into the office came McGonagall and Snape.

"Thanks for coming in such a short notice, Minerva, Severus." Dumbledore said.

"What is it, Albus?" McGonagall inquired.

"I need for you to send this contract and the lesson plan to the Board of Governors as soon as you can. Also, are the letters ready?"

"Yes, the letters are already good to go. Pomona, Filius and I will split the Muggleborn visits this year since there is a couple more of them this year." McGonagall replied while receiving the papers from Dumbledore. She read the name in the contract and she nearly had a heart stroke.

"A-A-Albus, is this contract right? You are hiring Gilderoy Lockhart?!" McGonagall sputtered. Snape turned a questioning glare towards the Headmaster.

"The contract is correct, my dear. He was the only who had applied to the post." Dumbledore sighed. "Please, send those documents as soon as possible, Minerva. It has to be approved by next week."

Minerva nodded severely and left. Snape nodded at her and after she closed the door to the office, Snape started to speak.

"Really Albus? A mediocre, bumbling, plagiarist fool for a Defense professor?!" Snape spat acidly.

"Glad you noticed before school started, Severus." Dumbledore replied. "Lemon drop, my boy?" the Headmaster offered the Potions professor.

"No thanks, Albus. So why deny MY application to move to the Defense post instead of hiring that idiot?"

"You clearly know why I denied you the post. I need you as the Potions professor. If I moved you to the Defense Against the Dark Arts post, you'd be in grave danger of being affected by the curse."

"You still believe that bull that the Dark Lord cursed the Defense class?" Snape sighed disdainfully.

"Well, you have seen what has happened to the professors that have been there. They either died or have been severely incapacitated."

"Then why you don't bring a curse breaker?"

"Since I do not the source of the curse, I cannot bring one to fix this mishap."

"Very well. I will be very watchful of that buffoon. I don't want another Quirrell case in here."

"You do that, Severus. I trust you." Dumbledore said, his blue eyes twinkling madly.

Severus pursed his lips and left the office, leaving a thoughtful Headmaster behind.


	10. Chapter 10 - The Switcheroo

Chapter 10 – The Switcheroo

 **Author's Note: We've reached the 10-chapter mark! And to compensate for the last short chapter, this chapter is longer than usual! Most parts are taken from the Chamber of Secrets book.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or its universe.**

* * *

Life at the Weasley Den in Devon was as different as possible from life on Privet Drive. The Dursleys liked everything neat and ordered; the Weasleys' house burst with the strange and unexpected. Harry got a shock the first time he looked in the mirror over the kitchen mantelpiece and it shouted, "Tuck your shirt in, scruffy!"

The House Elf flittered around the house, helping Molly with her chores, and small explosions from Fred and George's bedroom were considered perfectly normal. What

Harry found most unusual about life at Ron's, however, wasn't the talking mirror or the house elf: It was the fact that everybody there seemed to like him.

Mrs. Weasley fussed over the state of his socks and tried to force him to eat fourth helpings at every meal. Mr. Weasley liked Harry and Andrew to sit next to him at the dinner table so that he could bombard him with questions about life with Muggles, asking him to explain how things like plugs and the postal service worked.

"Fascinating!" he would say as Andrew talked him through using a telephone. "Ingenious, really, how many ways Muggles have found of getting along without magic."

Some days later, Ron told his friends that Ginny's birthday was in two days. Between Harry, Neville and Andrew, they decided to give some of the Hogwarts basic items as presents. Andrew had sent Odin with a letter to his parents asking for some money for a full Potions set and the Potions book. Neville decided to chip in with the Herbology and Charms book with some money that his Gran gave him to splurge, additional to the money to buy his school utilities, while Harry bought the History and Transfiguration books with some extra cash he had. Between all three and Ron, they also planned to buy her a nice diary on Andrew's suggestion.

"Girls her age do need her privacy and where to confide her stuff." Andrew said knowingly, while Ron, Neville and Harry glanced at each other with confused faces.

His father's answer came late in the evening and it was quick and positive. In a leather pouch, he sent enough galleons to buy the asked items and a bit more extra. His mother also attached a Flourish and Blotts owl order with his father's missive.

"You mum does think ahead." Ronald said, awed.

"Well, I had to get the brains from somewhere, eh?" Andrew answered grinning.

They filled the owl order and sent Odin once more. The package would hopefully come on Ginny's birthday.

* * *

Two days later…

Ginny's sleep was interrupted by a soft knock at her door. She woke up groggily from her bed. Then she heard the door creak open slightly.

"Ginny, good morning to you!" Molly entered with a big smile on her face. "Happy birthday! You finally turned eleven!" The Weasley matriarch hugged her youngest tightly. She submission-tapped her mother's shoulder and noticed that Ginny was being squashed and let go.

"Gee, mum, you nearly left me out of air. You really seem overenthusiastic." she said grinning.

"Well, it is kinda hard to have my youngest baby girl going to Hogwarts. It's sad for me to see the nest being empty…" Molly sniffled.

"Don't worry. Perce, Fred, George, Ron and I will be back soon. We will come after term ends." Ginny said, patting her mother's shoulder. Molly smiled endearingly at her daughter and stood up from her bed.

"Change from your pajamas. The others are already waiting for you." Molly left the room and Ginny proceeded to change her clothes and brush her hair a bit, to shake off the bed head.

She exited her room and she found the living room decorated for her birthday. The twins popped from either side of the entrance to the living room.

"Happy birthday, little Ginnykins!" the twins chorused.

Behind them were Percy pestering Ron for some unknown reason and Neville speaking with her childhood friend Luna Lovegood. She had straggly, shoulder-length, dirty blonde hair, very pale eyebrows, and protuberant eyes that gave her a permanently surprised look. Her parents were a bit further away, sitting on the shortest sofa. Harry and Andrew weren't in the living room, for some reason.

She sat at the designated chair next to the table and some presents from her family and from Luna. Neville approached Ginny and whispered to her ear.

"Andy and Harry are waiting for your presents outside."

Ginny's mind reeled and wondered what they were waiting for. Luna sat next to her and chatted amicably about random stuff (mostly her weird beings and her hunts with her father) when he suddenly heard Andrew's muffled shout.

"Fred, George! Harry and I need a hand here!"

The twins exited the living room and the house and after much struggle, between the four, they brought a big box wrapped as a present. Ginny's eyes went big!

"W-wh-what's all this?" Ginny asked in surprise.

"That, my dear Ginevra, is my present, mixed with Neville's, Ron's and Harry's." Andrew told her eagerly.

"Go on and open it." Harry nudged her, making her blush intensely.

Ginny opened the box carefully, peeling the wrapping paper meticulously. Fred and George appeared next to her.

"Gin, you're being too slow." Fred exclaimed.

"We're gonna help!" George continued.

Between the three they unwrapped the present and opened the box. Ginny's eyes opened wider than before.

She saw a couple of books, a pewter cauldron, the other items she needed for school and lots of her favorite candy. Molly and Arthur approached their daughter and they also were surprised at what they were seeing.

"Oh kids, you shouldn't have done all of this!" Arthur said. Molly was in tears of joy.

"It is no problem, Mr. Weasley. After all, Ginny DOES need all of this." Andrew said proudly.

"The only things we didn't buy were the Defense books since the letters haven't been sent yet, the school robes –" Harry said until Andrew interrupted rudely.

"Oh right! Mum said that Ginny has an appointment next Wednesday for the robes."

Harry, Neville and Ron rolled their eyes at their older friend.

"– as I was saying before I got rudely interrupted, the Defense books, the robes, the school trunk and her wand are the only thing that we didn't buy. But we do have one more present for her."

Harry brought from his back a rectangular present and gave tit o Ginny, who was red as a scalding hot boiler because of the proximity of Harry. She nervously opened the package and she saw a leather-covered book."

"It's a diary. Andrew told me of a bookstore near where we live that's run by a retired Muggleborn witch and Ron and I bought it for you. I know it's not much but…"

Ginny's body went on automatic and hugged Harry out of the blue and when she noticed what she was doing, squeaked like a trodden mouse and ran to her room, slamming the door shut. Everyone just stopped and laughed at the youngest Weasley's antics.

* * *

Harry heard from Hogwarts one sunny morning about half a week after Ginny's birthday. He and Ron went down to breakfast to find Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Ginny already sitting at the kitchen table. The moment she saw Harry, Ginny accidentally knocked her porridge bowl to the floor with a loud clatter. Ginny seemed very prone to knocking things over whenever Harry entered a room. She dived under the table to retrieve the bowl and emerged with her face glowing like the setting sun. Pretending he hadn't noticed this, Harry sat down and took the toast Mrs. Weasley offered him.

"Letters from school," said Mr. Weasley, passing Harry, Andrew, Neville and Ron identical envelopes of yellowish parchment, addressed in green ink. "Dumbledore already knows you three are here, — doesn't miss a trick, that man. You two've got them, too," he added, as Fred and George ambled in, still in their pajamas.

For a few minutes there was silence as they all read their letters. Harry's told him to catch the Hogwarts Express as usual from King's Cross station on September first. There was also a list of the new books he'd need for the coming year.

 _ **SECOND-YEAR STUDENTS WILL REQUIRE:**_

 _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2_ by Miranda Goshawk

 _Break with a Banshee_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

 _Gadding with Ghouls_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

 _Holidays with Hags_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

 _Travels with Trolls_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

 _Voyages with Vampires_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

 _Wanderings with Werewolves_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

 _Year with the Yeti_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

Fred, who had finished his own list, peered over at Harry's.

"You've been told to get all Lockhart's books, too!" he said. "The new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher must be a fan — bet it's a witch."

At this point, Fred caught his mother's eye and quickly busied himself with the marmalade.

"That lot won't come cheap," said George, with a quick look at his parents. "Lockhart's books are really expensive..."

"Well, we'll manage," said Mrs. Weasley, but she looked worried. "I expect we'll be able to pick up the remainder of Ginny's things secondhand."

She nodded, blushing to the roots of her flaming hair, and put her elbow in the butter dish. Fortunately no one saw this except Harry, because just then Ron's elder brother Percy walked in. He was already dressed, his Hogwarts prefect badge pinned to his sweater vest.

"Morning, all," said Percy briskly. "Lovely day."

He sat down in the only remaining chair but leapt up again almost immediately, pulling from underneath him a molting, gray feather duster — at least, that was what Harry thought it was, until he saw that it was breathing.

"Errol!" said Ron, taking the limp owl from Percy and extracting a letter from under its wing. "Finally — he's got Hermione's answer!"

He carried Errol to a perch just inside the back door and tried to stand him on it, but Errol flopped straight off again so Ron laid him on the draining board instead, muttering, "Pathetic." Then he ripped open Hermione's letter and read it out loud:

" _ **Dear Ron, (and Harry, Andrew and Neville if you're there),**_

 _ **I hope everything went all right and that Harry is okay and that you didn't do anything illegal to get him out, Ron, because that would get Harry into trouble, too. I've been really worried and if Harry is all right, will you please let me know at once, but perhaps it would be better if you used a different owl, because I think another delivery might finish your one off. I'm very busy with schoolwork, of course —**_ "

"How can she be?" said Ron in horror. "We're on vacation!"

"At least she has the right idea." Andrew replied. Ron glared at him in disgust.

"— _**and we're going to London next Wednesday to buy my new books. Why don't we meet in Diagon Alley? Let me know what's happening as soon as you can.**_

 _ **Love from Hermione.**_ "

"Well, that fits in nicely, we can go and get all your things then, too," said Mrs. Weasley, starting to clear the table. "What're you all up to today?"

Harry, Ron, Fred, and George were planning to go to the backyard to play Quidditch, while Andrew and Neville stayed put. Andrew liked playing Quidditch but since Neville was accident-prone, he decided to stay with his friend.

It was surrounded by trees that blocked it from view of the neighboring residences, meaning that they could practice Quidditch there, as long as they didn't fly too high. They couldn't use real Quidditch balls, which would have been hard to explain if they had escaped and flown away over the tree line. Instead, they threw apples for one another to catch. They took turns riding Harry's Nimbus Two Thousand, which was easily the best broom; Ron's old Shooting Star was often outstripped by passing butterflies.

Five minutes later they were marching out of the shed, broomsticks over their shoulders. They had asked Percy if he wanted to join them, but he had said he was busy. Harry had only seen Percy at mealtimes so far; he stayed shut in his room the rest of the time.

"Wish I knew what he was up to," said Fred, frowning. "He's not himself. His exam results came the day before you did; ten O.W.L.s and he hardly gloated at all."

"Ordinary Wizarding Levels," George explained, seeing Harry's puzzled look. "Bill also managed to receive ten. If we're not careful, we'll have another Head Boy in the family. I don't think I could stand the shame."

Bill was the oldest Weasley brother. He and the next brother, Charlie, had already left Hogwarts. Harry had never met either of them, but knew that Charlie was in Romania studying dragons and Bill in Egypt working for the wizard's bank, Gringotts.

"How many O.W.L.s can someone have?" asked Neville, curious.

"The norm is from 7 to 8, 9 or 10 of you're an overachiever, like Perce or Bill." Fred answered.

"There is the rare case that you can select all twelve classes. But who could handle the basic seven plus five electives?" George continued.

"They must be bloody mad to do that." Ron concluded.

The six of them sat silently.

"Dunno how Mum and Dad are going to afford all our school stuff this year," said George after a while. "Five sets of Lockhart books! And Ginny needs the rest of the things we didn't buy her…"

Harry said nothing. He felt a bit awkward. Stored in an underground vault at Gringotts in London was a small fortune that his parents had left him. Of course, it was only in the wizarding world that he had money; you couldn't use Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts in Muggle shops. He had never mentioned his Gringotts bank account to the Dursleys; he didn't think their horror of anything connected with magic would stretch to a large pile of gold.

* * *

 _In Malfoy Manor on a Wednesday morning…_

Draco was sitting by his desk, writing on Tom's diary.

" _Today father and I are going to Diagon Alley. I just got the letter for next year's books._ "

 _ **Interesting. Any changes?**_

" _There's a ton of books by that pompous fool Gilderoy Lockhart this year. Dad was slightly annoyed at the selection of the teacher but he hasn't told me yet who it was._ "

 _ **I don't know who that Lockhart fool is. Besides that, what else are you doing?**_

" _Just refill some of the potions ingredients and pester dad for a broomstick._ "

 _ **Very well.**_

A knock was heard on Draco's bedroom. Then he heard his father from behind the door.

"Draco, we're leaving soon. I hope you are prepared."

" _Father's ready to leave._ "

 _ **Okay. Take me with you, just in case the House Elves come to clean your room.**_

" _Sure will, Tom. I'll write to you later._ "

* * *

 _At that same time…_

Mrs. Weasley woke them all early the following Wednesday. After a quick half a dozen bacon sandwiches each, they pulled on their coats and Mrs. Weasley took a flowerpot off the kitchen mantelpiece and peered inside.

"We're running low, Arthur," she sighed. "We'll have to buy some more today... Ah well, guests first! After you, Harry dear!"

And she offered him the flowerpot.

Harry stared at them all watching him.

"I…I…" he stammered.

"He's never traveled by Floo powder," said Ron suddenly. "Sorry, Harry, I forgot."

"Never?" said Mr. Weasley. "But how did you get to Diagon Alley to buy your school things last year?"

"I went on the Underground — "

"Really?" said Mr. Weasley eagerly. "Were there escapators? How exactly — "

"They're called escalators, Mr. Weasley –" started Andrew.

"Not now, Arthur," said Mrs. Weasley, brusquely interrupting Andrew. "Floo powder's a lot quicker, dear, but goodness me, if you've never used it before — "

"I've seen people use it, but I haven't…"

"He'll be all right, Mum," said Fred. "Harry, watch us first."

He took a pinch of glittering powder out of the flowerpot, stepped up to the fire, and threw the powder into the flames.

With a roar, the fire turned emerald green and rose higher than Fred, who stepped right into it, shouted, "Diagon Alley!" and vanished.

"You must speak clearly, dear," Mrs. Weasley told Harry as George dipped his hand into the flowerpot. "And be sure to get out at the right grate..."

"The right what?" said Harry nervously as the fire roared and whipped George out of sight, too.

"Well, there are an awful lot of wizard fires to choose from, you know, but as long as you've spoken clearly…"

"He'll be fine, Molly, don't fuss," said Mr. Weasley, helping himself to Floo powder, too.

"But, dear, if he got lost, how would we ever explain to his aunt and uncle?"

"They wouldn't mind," Harry reassured her. "Dudley would think it was a brilliant joke if I got lost up a chimney, don't worry about that — "

"Well... all right... you go after Arthur," said Mrs. Weasley. "Now, when you get into the fire, say where you're going — "

"And keep your elbows tucked in," Ron advised.

"And your eyes shut," said Mrs. Weasley. "The soot —

"Don't fidget," said Ron. "Or you might well fall out of the wrong fireplace — "

"But don't panic and get out too early; wait until you see Fred and George."

Trying hard to bear all this in mind, Harry went to grab the Floo Powder when Andrew cleared his throat.

"I'll go with Harry, for security measures." said the Ravenclaw, patting his friend's shoulder. Harry felt relieved and he then took a pinch of Floo powder and walked to the edge of the fire. He took a deep breath, scattered the powder into the flames, and both stepped forward; the fire felt like a warm breeze; he opened his mouth and immediately swallowed a lot of hot ash.

"D-Dia-gon Alley," he coughed. Andrew looked at Harry alarmingly, when suddenly the flames turned emerald green and vanished.

It felt as though he were being sucked down a giant drain. Harry seemed to be spinning very fast — the roaring in his ears was deafening — he bear-hugged Andrew to cling on to something safe — he tried to keep his eyes open but the whirl of green flames made him feel sick — something hard knocked his elbow and he tucked it in tightly, still spinning and spinning — now it felt as though cold hands were slapping his face — squinting through his glasses he saw a blurred stream of fireplaces and snatched glimpses of the rooms beyond — his bacon sandwiches were churning inside him — he closed his eyes again wishing it would stop, and then —

He fell, face forward, onto cold stone, Andrew next to him and felt the bridge of his glasses snap under his friend's weight.

Dizzy and bruised, covered in soot, he got gingerly to his feet, and helped Andrew up. The Ravenclaw cleaned himself of the soot and picked up his broken glasses up to his eyes. They were quite alone, but where he was, he had no idea.

All they could tell was that he was standing in the stone fireplace of what looked like a large, dimly lit wizard's shop — but nothing in here was ever likely to be on a Hogwarts school list.

"I don't like the feeling of this place, Harry…" Andrew said slightly scared.

A glass case nearby held a withered hand on a cushion, a bloodstained pack of cards, and a staring glass eye. Evil-looking masks stared down from the walls, an assortment of human bones lay upon the counter, and rusty, spiked instruments hung from the ceiling. Even worse, the dark, narrow street Harry could see through the dusty shop window was definitely not Diagon Alley.

"The sooner we get out of here, the better." Harry said in a whisper to Andrew, with his nose still stinging where it had hit the hearth.

Harry made his way swiftly and silently toward the door, but before he'd got halfway toward it, two people appeared on the other side of the glass — and one of them was the very last person Harry wanted to meet when he was lost, covered in soot, and wearing broken glasses: Draco Malfoy.

Harry stopped cold, pushed Andrew back and looked quickly around and spotted a large black cabinet to his left; he shot inside it and pulled the doors closed, leaving a small crack to peer through. They were in a tight fit since Andrew's bulk was taking most of the space. Seconds later, a bell clanged, and Malfoy stepped into the shop.

The man who followed could only be Draco's father.

He had the same pale, pointed face and identical cold, gray eyes. Mr. Malfoy crossed the shop, looking lazily at the items on display, and rang a bell on the counter before turning to his son and saying, "Touch nothing, Draco."

Malfoy, who had reached for the glass eye, said, "I thought you were going to buy me a present."

"I said I would buy you a racing broom," said his father, drumming his fingers on the counter.

"What's the good of that if I'm not on the House team?" said Malfoy, looking sulky and bad-tempered. "Harry Potter got a Nimbus Two Thousand last year. He had 'special permission from Dumbledore so he could play for Gryffindor'." He said in a childish, mocking voice.

Andrew and Harry had to suppress a giggle. Draco was acting like a little kid crossed with a gossipy teenager.

"He's not even that good, it's just because he's famous... famous for having a stupid scar on his forehead..."

Malfoy bent down to examine a shelf full of skulls.

"...everyone thinks he's so smart, wonderful Potter with his scar and his broomstick —"

"You have told me this at least a dozen times already," said Mr. Malfoy, with a quelling look at his son.

"Harry, I think that Drakey boy has a deeply unaccepted crush towards you." Andrew whispered very low on Harry's ear and suppressed a chuckle.

"And I would remind you that it is not — prudent — to appear less than fond of Harry Potter, not when most of our kind regards him as the hero who made the Dark Lord disappear — ah, Mr. Borgin."

"Borgin? Oh no, I think I know where we are right now…" Andrew whispered, nervousness creeping in his voice.

"Where are we, Andy?" Harry whispered.

"Borgin and Burkes: one of the shops specializing on Dark Arts in Knockturn Alley!" Andrew gulped after answering to Harry.

A stooping man had appeared behind the counter, smoothing his greasy hair back from his face.

"Mr. Malfoy, what a pleasure to see you again," said Mr. Borgin in a voice as oily as his hair. "Delighted — and young Master Malfoy, too — charmed. How may I be of assistance? I must show you, just in today, and very reasonably priced —"

"I'm not buying today, Mr. Borgin, but selling," said Mr. Malfoy.

Andrew's ears perked at that sentence and he squinted his eyes in suspicion.

"Selling?" The smile faded slightly from Mr. Borgin's face.

"You have heard, of course, that the Ministry is conducting more raids," said Mr. Malfoy, taking a roll of parchment from his inside pocket and unraveling it for Mr. Borgin to read. "I have a few — ah — items at home that might embarrass me, if the Ministry were to call..."

Mr. Borgin fixed a pair of pince-nez to his nose and looked down the list.

"The Ministry wouldn't presume to trouble you, sir, surely?"

Mr. Malfoy's lip curled.

"I have not been visited yet. The name Malfoy still commands a certain respect, yet the Ministry grows ever more meddlesome. There are rumors about a new Muggle Protection Act — no doubt that flea-bitten, Muggle-loving fool Arthur Weasley is behind it —"

Harry felt a hot surge of anger.

"— and as you see, certain of these poisons might make it appear — "

"I understand, sir, of course," said Mr. Borgin. "Let me see..."

"Can I have that?" interrupted Draco, pointing at the withered hand on its cushion.

"Ah, the Hand of Glory!" said Mr. Borgin, abandoning Mr. Malfoy's list and scurrying over to Draco. "Insert a candle and it gives light only to the holder! Best friend of thieves and plunderers! Your son has fine taste, sir."

"I hope my son will amount to more than a thief or a plunderer, Borgin," said Mr. Malfoy coldly, and Mr. Borgin said quickly, "No offense, sir, no offense meant!"

"Though if his grades don't pick up," said Mr. Malfoy, more coldly still, "that may indeed be all he is fit for…"

"I've TOLD you that it's not my fault," retorted Draco. "The teachers all have favorites, like that Hermione Granger — "

"I would have thought you'd be ashamed that a girl of no wizard family beat you in every exam," snapped Mr. Malfoy.

"Ha!" said Harry under his breath, pleased to see Draco looking both abashed and angry.

"It's the same all over," said Mr. Borgin, in his oily voice. "Wizard blood is counting for less everywhere —

"Not with me," said Mr. Malfoy, his long nostrils flaring.

"No, sir, nor with me, sir," said Mr. Borgin, with a deep bow.

"In that case, perhaps we can return to my list," said Mr. Malfoy shortly. "I am in something of a hurry, Borgin, I have important business elsewhere today — "

They started to haggle. Harry and Andrew watched nervously as Draco drew nearer and nearer to his hiding place, examining the objects for sale. Draco paused to examine a long coil of hangman's rope and to read, smirking, the card propped on a magnificent necklace of opals, _**Caution: Do Not Touch. Cursed — Has Claimed the Lives of Nineteen Muggle Owners to Date**_.

Draco turned away and saw the cabinet right in front of him. He walked forward — he stretched out his hand for the handle —

"Done," said Mr. Malfoy at the counter. "Come, Draco

Harry wiped his forehead on his sleeve as Draco turned away.

"Good day to you, Mr. Borgin. Ill expect you at the manor tomorrow to pick up the goods."

The moment the door had closed, Mr. Borgin dropped his oily manner.

"Good day yourself, Mister Malfoy, and if the stories are true, you haven't sold me half of what's hidden in your manor..."

Muttering darkly, Mr. Borgin disappeared into a back room. Harry waited for a minute in case he came back, then, quietly as he could, slipped out of the cabinet, past the glass cases, and out of the shop door.

Clutching his broken glasses to his face, Harry stared around. He had emerged into a dingy alleyway that seemed to be made up entirely of shops devoted to the Dark Arts. The one he'd just left, Borgin and Burkes, looked like the largest, but opposite was a nasty window display of shrunken heads and, two doors down, a large cage was alive with gigantic black spiders. Two shabby-looking wizards were watching them from the shadow of a doorway, muttering to each other. Feeling jumpy, Harry set off, trying to hold his glasses on straight and hoping against hope he'd be able to find a way out of here.

An old wooden street sign hanging over a shop selling poisonous candles confirmed them that they were in Knockturn Alley. He supposed he hadn't spoken clearly enough through his mouthful of ashes back in the Weasleys' fire. Trying to stay calm, he wondered what to do.

"Not lost are you, my dear?" said a voice in his ear, making Harry jump.

An aged witch stood in front of him, holding a tray of what looked horribly like whole human fingernails.

She leered at him, showing mossy teeth. Harry backed away.

"We're fine, thanks," Andrew said. "We're just — "

"HARRY! ANDREW! What d'yeh think yer doin' down there?"

Harry's heart leapt. So did the witch; a load of fingernails cascaded down over her feet and she cursed as the massive form of Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper, came striding toward them, beetle-black eyes flashing over his great bristling beard.

"Hagrid!" Harry croaked in relief.

"We were lost — Harry misspoke while using Floo powder — "

Hagrid seized Harry and Andrew by the scruff of their necks and pulled them away from the witch, knocking the tray right out of her hands. Her shrieks followed them all the way along the twisting alleyway out into bright sunlight. Harry saw a familiar, snow-white marble building in the distance — Gringotts Bank. Hagrid had steered him right into Diagon Alley.

"Yer a mess!" said Hagrid gruffly, brushing soot off Harry so forcefully he nearly knocked him into a barrel of dragon dung outside an apothecary. Hagrid went to clean Andrew but he decided to quickwipe himself.

"Skulkin' around Knockturn Alley, I dunno — dodgy place, yeh two — don' want no one ter see yeh down there — "

"I realized that," said Harry, ducking as Hagrid made to brush him off again. "I told you, I was lost!

"What were you doing down there, anyway?" Andrew interjected suspiciously.

"I was lookin' fer a Flesh-Eatin' Slug Repellent," growled Hagrid. "They're ruinin' the school cabbages. Yer not on yer own?"

"Andrew, Neville and I are staying with the Weasleys but we got separated,"

Harry explained. "I've got to go and find them. ..."

They set off together down the street.

"How come yeh never wrote back ter me?" said Hagrid as Harry jogged alongside him (they had to take three steps to every stride of Hagrid's enormous boots). Harry explained all about Dobby, the Dursleys, the Ministry and the Rivers.

"Lousy Muggles," growled Hagrid. "If I'd've known — "

"Harry! Andy! Over here!"

Harry looked up and saw Hermione Granger standing at the top of the white flight of steps to Gringotts. She ran down to meet them, her bushy brown hair flying behind her. Andrew blushed when he saw her and greeted her nervously.

"What happened to your glasses, Harry? Hello, Hagrid — Oh, it's wonderful to see you two again — Are you coming into Gringotts, you two?"

"As soon as we've found the Weasleys," said Andrew.

"Yeh won't have long ter wait," Hagrid said with a grin.

Harry and Hermione looked around: Sprinting up the crowded street were Ron, Fred, George, Percy, Neville and Mr. Weasley.

"Harry," Mr. Weasley panted. "We hoped you'd only gone one grate too far..." He mopped his glistening bald patch. "Molly's frantic — she's coming now — "

"Where did you come out?" Ron asked.

"Knockturn Alley," said Hagrid grimly.

"Excellent." said Fred and George together.

"We've never been allowed in," said Ron enviously.

"I should ruddy well think not," growled Hagrid.

Mrs. Weasley now came galloping into view, her handbag swinging wildly in one hand, Ginny just clinging onto the other.

"Oh, Harry, Andrew — oh, my dears — you could have been anywhere — "

Gasping for breath she pulled a large clothes brush out of her bag and began sweeping off the soot Hagrid hadn't managed to beat away. Mr. Weasley took Harry's glasses, gave them a tap of his wand, and returned them, good as new.

"Well, gotta be off," said Hagrid, who was having his hand wrung by Mrs. Weasley ("Knockturn Alley! If you hadn't found him, Hagrid!"). "See yer at Hogwarts!" And he strode away, head and shoulders taller than anyone else in the packed street.

"Guess who we saw in Borgin and Burkes?" Harry asked Ron, Neville and Hermione as they climbed the Gringotts steps. "Malfoy and his father."

"Did Lucius Malfoy buy anything?" said Mr. Weasley sharply behind them.

"No, he was selling — "

"So he's worried," said Mr. Weasley with grim satisfaction. "Oh, I'd love to get Lucius Malfoy for something..."

"You be careful, Arthur," said Mrs. Weasley sharply as they were bowed into the bank by a goblin at the door. "That family's trouble. Don't go biting off more than you can chew — "

"So you don't think I'm a match for Lucius Malfoy?" said Mr. Weasley indignantly.

"Don't worry, Mr. Weasley, I'll tell Dad and you two can get him pinned. He should be around today." said Andrew smirking.

"Oh, I will tell Anthony…" Arthur said but he didn't finish the sentence because he was distracted almost at once by the sight of Hermione's parents, who were standing nervously at the counter that ran all along the great marble hall, waiting for Hermione to introduce them.

"But you're Muggles!" said Mr. Weasley delightedly.

"We must have a drink! What's that you've got there? Oh, you're changing Muggle money. Molly, look!" He pointed excitedly at the ten-pound notes in Mr. Granger's hand.

"Meet you back here," Ron said to Hermione as the Weasleys and Harry were led off to their underground vaults by another Gringotts goblin.

The vaults were reached by means of small, goblin- driven carts that sped along minature train tracks through the bank's underground tunnels. Harry enjoyed the breakneck journey down to the Weasleys' vault, but felt dreadful, far worse than he had in Knockturn Alley, when it was opened. There was a very small pile of silver Sickles inside, and just one gold Galleon. Mrs. Weasley felt right into the corners before sweeping the whole lot into her bag. Harry felt even worse when they reached his vault. He tried to block the contents from view as he hastily shoved handfuls of coins into a leather bag.

While exiting to the main lobby of the bank, one of the goblin tellers stopped the Weasley clan.

"Excuse me, Mr. Arthur Weasley?" the goblin said.

"Yes, it's me. Excuse me, but is there something wrong, respected goblin?" Arthur replied.

"Not at all, just that the goblin accountant for your vault received a letter from a N. Flamel which said that with the transfer of the ownership of the house from him to Mr. Potter and then, on Mr. Potter's wish, to your family, you also have two more vaults signed off to your name."

The eyes of everyone present nearly popped out of their sockets and Molly fainted. After finishing all the paperwork and extracting a bit more of money, they left the bank/

Back outside on the marble steps, they all separated. Percy muttered vaguely about needing a new quill. Fred and George had spotted their friend from Hogwarts, Lee Jordan. Mrs. Weasley and Ginny were going to Madam Malkin's Robe shop for the appointment. Mr. Weasley was insisting on taking the Grangers off to the Leaky Cauldron for a drink.

"We'll all meet at Flourish and Blotts in an hour to buy your schoolbooks," said Mrs. Weasley, setting off with Ginny. "And not one step down Knockturn Alley!" she shouted at the twins' retreating backs.

Harry, Ron, Neville, Andrew and Hermione strolled off along the winding, cobbled street. The bag of gold, silver, and bronze jangling cheerfully in their pockets were clamoring to be spent, so they bought four large strawberry-and-peanut-butter ice creams, while Andrew bought his own, slightly smaller vanilla ice cream with caramel and nuts for himself ("Mum wants me to lay off the sweets for some while", Andy said while sighing), which they slurped happily as they wandered up the alley, examining the fascinating shop windows. Ron gazed longingly at a full set of Chudley Cannon robes in the windows of Quality Quidditch Supplies until Hermione dragged them off to buy ink and parchment next door. In Gambol and Japes Wizarding Joke Shop, they met Fred, George, and Lee Jordan, who were stocking up on Dr. Filibuster's Fabulous Wet- Start, No-Heat Fireworks, and in a tiny junk shop full of broken wands, lopsided brass scales, and old cloaks covered in potion stains they found Percy, deeply immersed in a small and deeply boring book called _**Prefects Who Gained Power**_.

"A study of Hogwarts prefects and their later careers," Ron read aloud off the back cover. "That sounds fascinating. ..."

"Go away," Percy snapped.

"'Course, he's very ambitious, Percy, he's got it all planned out... He wants to be Minister of Magic..." Ron told the quartet in an undertone as they left Percy to it.

An hour later, they headed for Flourish and Blotts. They were by no means the only ones making their way to the bookshop. As they approached it, they saw to their surprise a large crowd jostling outside the doors, trying to get in. The reason for this was proclaimed by a large banner stretched across the upper windows:

 **GILDEROY LOCKHART**

 **Will be signing copies of his autobiography**

 **MAGICAL ME today 12:30 p.m. to 4:30 p.m.**

"We can actually meet him!" Hermione squealed. "I mean, he's written almost the whole booklist!"

The crowd seemed to be made up mostly of witches around Mrs. Weasley's age. A harassed-looking wizard stood at the door, saying, "Calmly, please, ladies... Don't push, there... mind the books, now..."

Helping out the wizard was none other than…

"Dad!" Andrew exclaimed. Anthony smiled at his son's shout and hugged him tightly.

"Hey there, kiddo. How are you faring at the Weasleys?" he asked curiously, while he directed the kids inside.

"We're doing okay. How's Mum and Tony?"

"They're okay. Mum misses you a lot. She can't wait to see you soon."

Harry, Ron, Andrew, Neville and Hermione squeezed inside. A long line wound right to the back of the shop, where Gilderoy Lockhart was signing his books. They each grabbed a copy of _**The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2**_. Meanwhile, the Ravenclaw vanished to get his copy of _**The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 3**_ , _**Numerology and Grammatica**_ , _**Runes - A Beginner's Guide**_ and the _**Intermediate Transfiguration**_ and sneaked up the line to where Harry, Hermione, Neville and the rest of the Weasleys were standing with Mr. and Mrs. Granger.

"Oh, there you are, good," said Mrs. Weasley. She sounded breathless and kept patting her hair. "We'll be able to see him in a minute..."

Gilderoy Lockhart came slowly into view, seated at a table surrounded by large pictures of his own face, all winking and flashing dazzlingly white teeth at the crowd. The real Lockhart was wearing robes of forget-me-not blue that exactly matched his eyes; his pointed wizard's hat was set at a jaunty angle on his wavy hair.

A short, irritable-looking man was dancing around taking photographs with a large black camera that emitted puffs of purple smoke with every blinding flash.

"Out of the way, there," he snarled at Ron, moving back to get a better shot. "This is for the Daily Prophet!"

"Big deal," said Ron, rubbing his foot where the photographer had stepped on it.

Gilderoy Lockhart heard him. He looked up. He saw Andrew, then Ron — and then he saw Harry. He stared. Then he leapt to his feet and positively shouted, "It can't be Harry Potter?"

The crowd parted, whispering excitedly; Lockhart dived forward, seized Harry's arm, and pulled him to the front. The crowd burst into applause. Harry's face burned as Lockhart shook his hand for the photographer, who was clicking away madly, wafting thick smoke over the Weasleys.

"Nice big smile, Harry," said Lockhart, through his own gleaming teeth. "Together, you and I are worth the front page."

When he finally let go of Harry's hand, Harry could hardly feel his fingers. He tried to sidle back over to the Weasleys, but Lockhart threw an arm around his shoulders and clamped him tightly to his side.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he said loudly, waving for quiet. "What an extraordinary moment this is! The perfect moment for me to make a little announcement I've been sitting on for some time!

"When young Harry here stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, he only wanted to buy my autobiography — which I shall be happy to present him now, free of charge — " The crowd applauded again. "He had no idea," Lockhart continued, giving Harry a little shake that made his glasses slip to the end of his nose, "that he would shortly be getting much, much more than my book, Magical Me. He and his schoolmates will, in fact, be getting the real magical me. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have great pleasure and pride in announcing that this September, I will be taking up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"

The crowd cheered and clapped and Harry found himself being presented with the entire works of Gilderoy Lockhart. Staggering slightly under their weight, he managed to make his way out of the limelight to the edge of the room, where Ginny was standing next to her new school trunk, holding her diary clutched to her chest.

"You have these," Harry mumbled to her, tipping the books into the trunk. "I'll buy my own — "

They moved to a less crowded part of the shop and Ginny bumped into someone, making the books and her diary fall from her hands. When she bent down, she noticed who she bumped into.

"Well well, look who it is: the Weasley youngest brat. Watch where you're going, blood-traitor" He clutched a black book and placed it under his arm. Then he smirked when he saw Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville and Andrew. "Ah, if it's none other than Potty, Weasle-bee, the Mudblood, the Squib and the usurper. Bet you loved that, didn't you, Potter?" said a voice Harry had no trouble recognizing. He turned around and found himself face-to-face with Draco Malfoy.

"Famous Harry Potter," said Malfoy. "Can't even go into a bookshop without making the front page."

"Leave him alone, he didn't want all that!" said Ginny. She was glaring at Malfoy.

"Potter, you've got yourself a girlfriend!" drawled Malfoy. Ginny went scarlet as Ron and Hermione fought their way over, both clutching stacks of Lockhart's books.

"Oh, it's you," said Ron, looking at Malfoy as if he were something unpleasant on the sole of his shoe. "Bet you're surprised to see Harry here, eh?"

"Not as surprised as I am to see you in a shop, Weasley," retorted Malfoy. "I suppose your parents will go hungry for a month to pay for all those."

Ron went as red as Ginny. He dropped his books into the trunk, too, and started toward Malfoy, but Harry and Hermione grabbed the back of his jacket.

"Well, at least you aren't the one whining to Daddy that a muggle born whipped your pale, Slytherin arse to next week on the class rankings." Andrew stepped in front of the group. Hermione slapped Andrew on the arm for talking like that. Draco's face changed into a loathing one.

"Ron!" said Mr. Weasley, struggling over with Fred and George. Mr. Rivers was just behind them. "What are you doing? It's too crowded in here, let's go outside."

"Well, well, well — Arthur Weasley and Anthony Rivers."

It was Mr. Malfoy. He stood with his hand on Draco's shoulder, sneering in just the same way.

"Lucius," said Mr. Weasley, nodding coldly. Anthony openly glared at Lucius.

"Busy time at the Ministry, I hear," said Mr. Malfoy. "All those raids... I hope they're paying you overtime?"

He reached into Ginny's trunk and extracted, from amid the glossy Lockhart books, an old, battered copy of _**Potions Basics – The Full Encyclopedia**_ , which it was recommended by Andrew to help her on her first year.

"Obviously not," Mr. Malfoy said. "Dear me, what's the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don't even pay you well for it?"

Mr. Weasley flushed darker than either Ron or Ginny.

"We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy," Mr. Rivers said. "Or do you want a reminder from twelve years ago, Lucius?"

"Clearly," said Mr. Malfoy, his pale eyes straying to Mr. and Mrs. Granger, who were watching apprehensively. "The company you two keep... and I thought your families could sink no lower — "

There was a thud of wood as Ginny's trunk went flying; Mr. Weasley had thrown himself at Mr. Malfoy, knocking him backward into a bookshelf. Dozens of heavy spellbooks came thundering down on all their heads. Mr. Rivers also entered the brawl to hit Malfoy. There was a yell of, "Get him, Dad!" from Fred or George; Mrs. Weasley was shrieking, "No, Arthur, no!"; the crowd stampeded backward, knocking more shelves over; "Gentlemen, please — please!" cried the assistant, and then, louder than all —

"Break it up, there, gents, break it up — "

Hagrid was wading toward them through the sea of books. In an instant he had pulled Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy apart. Mr. Weasley had a cut lip and Mr. Malfoy had been hit in the eye by an Encyclopedia of Toadstools. He was still holding Ginny's Potions book. He thrust it at her, his eyes glittering with malice.

"Here, girl — take your book — " Pulling himself out of Hagrid's grip he beckoned to Draco and swept from the shop.

"Yeh two should've ignored him," said Hagrid, almost lifting Mr. Weasley off his feet as he straightened his robes. "Rotten ter the core, the whole family, everyone knows that — no Malfoy's worth listenin' ter — bad blood, that's what it is — come on now — let's get outta here."

The assistant looked as though he wanted to stop them from leaving, but he barely came up to Hagrid's waist and seemed to think better of it. They hurried up the street, the Grangers shaking with fright and Mrs. Weasley beside herself with fury. Janice appeared from Madam Malkin's entrance across from Flourish and Blotts, hearing the shouts.

"Molly, what just happened?" Janice inquired.

"Our husbands were brawling like common street rats with Lucius Malfoy, that's what!" Molly told her.

"A fine example to set for your children, both of you... brawling in public!" shouted Janice at both Arthur and Anthony, with her wand brandished at her husband.

"What Gilderoy Lockhart must've thought — " Molly shouted.

"He was pleased," said Fred. "Didn't you hear him as we were leaving? He was asking that bloke from the Daily Prophet if he'd be able to work the fight into his report — said it was all publicity — "

But it was a subdued group that headed back to the fireside in the Leaky Cauldron, where Harry, Neville, Andrew, the Weasleys, and all their shopping would be traveling back to the Weasley Den using Floo powder. They said good-bye to the Grangers, who were leaving the pub for the Muggle street on the other side; Mr. Weasley started to ask them how bus stops worked, but stopped quickly at the look on Mrs. Weasley's face.

Harry took off his glasses and put them safely in his pocket before helping himself to Floo powder. It definitely wasn't his favorite way to travel.


	11. Author's Message!

p style="text-align: center;"Announcement:/p  
p style="text-align: left;"br /On one of the chapter's Author's Note, I mentioned that when I start working, the story updates will change. For now, the story will be updated either twice a month or once a month. For this next chapter, I will try to have it by the end of the month. Sorry for the inconveniences! Any ideas/reviews/other stuff can be sent to the PM./p  
p style="text-align: left;"Thanks for your patronage and everything!/p  
p style="text-align: left;"KennyQ/p 


	12. Chapter 11 - Fights and Flights

Chapter 11 – Flights and Fights

 **Author's Note: Chapter 11 is finally up! Thanks for the wait! Shoutout to my new followers/favorites _Dreamy-Girl2016_ , _nshaik281_ and _AslansHow24_ for this story and _Kurayami Kazuo Riddle_ , _nshaik281_ , _Rachel James_ and _greybeard52_ for the _Legend of the Stone_.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or its universe, at all.**

* * *

The end of the summer vacation came too quickly for everyone's liking. He was looking forward to getting back to Hogwarts, but his month at the Weasley Den had been the happiest of his life. It was difficult not to feel jealous of Ron when he thought of the Dursleys and the sort of welcome he could expect next time he turned up on Privet Drive.

On their last evening, Mrs. Weasley conjured up a sumptuous dinner that included a bit of everyone's favorite things, ending with a mouthwatering treacle pudding. Fred and George rounded off the evening with a display of Filibuster fireworks; they filled the backyard with red and blue stars for at least half an hour. Then it was time for a last mug of hot chocolate and bed.

It took a long while to get started next morning. They were up at dawn, but somehow they still seemed to have a great deal to do. Mrs. Weasley dashed about in a bad mood looking for spare socks and quills; people kept colliding on the hallways, half-dressed with bits of toast in their hands; and Mr. Weasley nearly broke his neck, tripping over Fred's trunk as he crossed the yard carrying Ginny's trunk to the car.

The quartet couldn't see how ten people, eight large trunks, four owls, and a rat were going to fit into one small Ford Anglia. He had reckoned, of course, without the special features that Mr. Weasley had added.

"Not a word to Molly," he whispered to Andrew as he opened the trunk and showed him how it had been magically expanded so that the luggage fitted easily.

When at last they were all in the car, Mrs. Weasley glanced into the back seat, where Harry, Ron, Fred, George, and Percy were all sitting comfortably side by side, and said, "Muggles do know more than we give them credit for, don't they?" She and Ginny got into the front seat with Neville and Andrew, which had been stretched so that it resembled a park bench. "I mean, you'd never know it was this roomy from the outside, would you?" Andrew watched as Arthur glanced forward, his ears turning slightly pink in guilt.

Mr. Weasley started up the engine and they trundled out of the yard, Harry turning back for a last look at the house. He barely had time to wonder when he'd see it again when Mr. Weasley advanced down the road towards the highway. They were running very late, and tempers were running high.

Mr. Weasley glanced at his watch and then at his wife.

"Molly, dear — "

"No, Arthur — "

"No one would see — this little button here is an Invisibility Booster I installed — that'd get us up in the air — then we fly above the clouds. We'd be there in ten minutes and no one would be any the wiser — "

"I said no, Arthur, not in broad daylight — "

They reached King's Cross at a quarter to eleven. Mr. Weasley dashed across the road to get trolleys for their trunks and they all hurried into the station. On the way back, he brought Mr. Rivers with him.

"Hey Dad! It's odd seeing you here!" Andrew exclaimed.

"Hello son. I asked Scrimgeour for this post today in particular. Remember, I do work as an undercover Muggle cop. Mum sends you hugs and kisses for you." Mr. Rivers said, patting his eldest son's head endearingly. "Well, it's nearly eleven o' clock. Let's get this rolling!" He beckoned to Harry, Neville and the Weasley clan.

Harry had caught the Hogwarts Express the previous year. The tricky part was getting onto platform nine and three-quarters, which wasn't visible to the Muggle eye. What you had to do was walk through the solid barrier dividing platforms nine and ten. It didn't hurt, but it had to be done carefully so that none of the Muggles noticed you vanishing.

"Percy first," said Mrs. Weasley, looking nervously at the clock overhead, which showed they had only five minutes to disappear casually through the barrier.

Percy strode briskly forward and vanished. Mr. Weasley went next; Fred and George followed.

"I'll take Ginny and you four come right after us with Mr. Rivers," Mrs. Weasley told Harry, Andrew, Neville and Ron, grabbing Ginny's hand and setting off. In the blink of an eye they were gone.

"Let's go together, we've only got a minute," Ron said to the other three.

Harry made sure that Hedwig's cage was safely wedged on top of his trunk and wheeled his trolley around to face the barrier. He felt perfectly confident; this wasn't nearly as uncomfortable as using Floo powder. Harry and Ron bent low over the handles of their trolleys and walked purposefully toward the barrier, gathering speed. Andrew and Neville decided to wait after they have went through. A few feet away from it, they broke into a run and —

CRASH.

Both trolleys hit the barrier and bounced backward; Ron's trunk fell off with a loud thump, Harry was knocked off his feet, and Hedwig's cage bounced onto the shiny floor, and she rolled away, shrieking indignantly; people all around them stared and a guard nearby yelled, "What in blazes d'you think you're doing?"

"Lost control of the trolley," Harry gasped, clutching his ribs as he got up. Ron ran to pick up Hedwig, who was causing such a scene that there was a lot of muttering about cruelty to animals from the surrounding crowd.

"Why can't we get through?" Harry hissed to his friends.

"I dunno — "

Ron looked wildly around. A dozen curious people were still watching them.

"This is very weird indeed, children. It's the first time I have ever seen this happen." Mr. Rivers waved quickly his wand, erecting a shimmering barrier around the entrance to Platform 9 3/4.

"What charm did you apply, Dad?" Andrew asked curiously.

"I used a Notice-Me-Not Charm and a Muggle repelling charm on the area. Let's inspect the area. In the meanwhile, write a note to Professor McGonagall or Professor Flitwick and explain the situation." His father urged.

Andrew walked towards the column. He wheeled his trolley forward cautiously until it was right against the barrier and pushed with all his might. The metal remained solid. He sighed exasperatedly and he got some parchment out of his trunk and started to write the note.

* * *

A bit farther away from the group Ron and Harry were whispering nervously.

"We're going to miss the train," Ron whispered to Harry. "I don't understand why the gateway's sealed itself — "

Harry looked up at the giant clock with a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach. Ten seconds... nine seconds...

One of the trains that were just arriving brought an influx of people, pushing them away even more from where their friends were.

Harry was nervously glancing at the now-distanced clock, sweat appearing markedly. Three seconds... two seconds... one second... A clang resounded around the train station.

"It's gone," said Ron, sounding stunned. "The train's left. What if Mum and Dad can't get back through to us? Have you got any Muggle money?"

Harry gave a hollow laugh. "The Dursleys haven't given me pocket money for about six years."

"What're we going to do? I don't know how long it'll take Mum and Dad to get back to us." he said tensely.

They looked around. People were still watching them, mainly because of Hedwig's continuing screeches.

"I think we'd better go and wait by the car and wait until either your parents or Mr. Rivers find out what happened," said Harry. "We're attracting too much atten — "

"Harry!" said Ron, his eyes gleaming. "The car!"

"What about it?"

"We can fly the car to Hogwarts!"

"But I thought — "

"We're stuck, right? And we've got to get to school, haven't we? And even underage wizards are allowed to use magic if it's a real emergency, section nineteen or something of the Restriction of Thingy — "

"But your mum and dad..." said Harry, a bit nervous. "How will they get home?"

"They don't need the car!" said Ron impatiently. "They know how to Apparate! You know, just vanish and reappear at home! They only bother with Floo powder and the car because we're all underage and we're not allowed to Apparate yet..."

"What about Nev and Andy? We can't leave them behind!"

"Don't worry. Mr. Rivers will find a way for them to go there. Let's hurry or we can't follow the train!"

Harry's feeling of panic turned suddenly to excitement.

"Can you fly it?"

"No problem," said Ron, wheeling his trolley around to face the exit

And they marched off through the crowd of curious Muggles, out of the station and back onto the side road where the old Ford Anglia was parked.

Ron unlocked the cavernous trunk with a series of taps from his wand. They heaved their luggage back in, put Hedwig on the back seat, and got into the front.

"Check that no one's watching," said Ron, starting the ignition with another tap of his wand. Harry stuck his head out of the window: Traffic was rumbling along the main road ahead, but their street was empty.

"Okay," he said.

Ron pressed a tiny silver button on the dashboard. The car around them vanished — and so did they. Harry could feel the seat vibrating beneath him, hear the engine, feel his hands on his knees and his glasses on his nose, but for all he could see, he had become a pair of eyeballs, floating a few feet above the ground in a dingy street full of parked cars.

"Let's go," said Ron's voice from his right.

And the ground and the dirty buildings on either side fell away, dropping out of sight as the car rose; in seconds, the whole of London lay, smoky and glittering, below them.

* * *

 _A bit earlier at the Hogwarts Express Station in Platform 9 ¾ …_

Andrew finished the note and sent Odin quickly to Hogwarts. His father and Neville were still checking the barrier until his hand went through.

"Huh, that was odd. The barrier just started to work again." said Mr. Rivers. He removed the charm while pushing Neville's trolley through the barrier to the nearest empty compartment, with his son hot on his heels. "Let's get your stuff in the train. There's only two minutes left to leave."

At that moment, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley appeared next to them.

"Oh Merlin, I am so glad we found you! What happened?" asked Mrs. Weasley.

"The barrier was blocked for a minute and I was checking why it behaved like that. After we leave, I'll drop by the Ministry to report this." replied Mr. Rivers, heaving his son's trunk up.

"Wait, where is Harry and Ronald?" said Mrs. Weasley nervously, noting that the two kids weren't there.

"They were just behind us at the platform! Arthur, let's check!"

They both ran back to the platform to search for the missing duo, leaving Mrs. Weasley saying her goodbyes.

Inside, Lee, Fred and George were helping them to put it in the empty compartment nearby. The train's whistle had been heard and it started moving.

Neville and Andrew ran onto the train and were helped up by Fred and Hermione, who had just appeared.

"What happened? Why are you two so late? And where is Harry and Ron?" asked Hermione quickly without stopping, while pushing them to their compartment.

"Mione, calm your pr pretty head down! The barrier closed on us for a moment and then it reopened." Andrew answered the brainy Gryffindor.

"Harry and Ron got separated from us and we don't honestly know where they are…" added Neville sadly.

"Oh Merlin, what are they going to do? We have to tell someone!" Hermione said nervously.

"Relax! They'll turn up eventually. Dad said to send a quick note to Professor McGonagall explaining about the situation." Andrew told her, abating her nervousness a bit. In that moment, Andrew stood up and walked towards the compartment door. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to see my roommates quick. I'll be back in a jiffy!"

As he exited the compartment, he bumped into someone, both falling to the floor unceremoniously.

"Watch where you're going you bumbling idiot!" the other person said.

"Sorry, I came out of the compartment in a rush. Are you okay?" Andrew asked, fixing the glasses on his face.

"It's none of your business, you stupid Ravenclaw."

Andrew noted that the boy was around his age, with a wide build, just like Crabbe or Goyle. He had a permanent frown on his face. He was also from Slytherin, according to the robe he was wearing. Andrew glared at him for his rudeness.

"No need to be so rude, you prat."

The other boy brought out his wand menacingly. Andrew instinctively brought out his, baring his teeth at his nemesis. That same moment, Percy appeared.

"What is going on here? Towers, Rivers, bring down your wands!"

Both slightly put down their wands, glaring intensely at each other. Then, the kid who Percy called Towers pushed Andrew to the side and went down the train's hallway.

"What's his problem?" said Andrew glaring at the boy's back.

"What happened here, Andrew? This isn't like you at all." asked Percy, oddly concerned.

"I dunno, I just bumped into him and he went all angry on me." He replied. "Who is that guy anyways?"

"That's Kevin Towers. He's a Slytherin in your year. His cousin is Kenneth Towers, the seventh year prefect. They're a bit distant due to Kevin's father being a suspected Death Eater once. You father was one of the Aurors in that arrest."

"Dad arrested that prick's father? I didn't know that!" Andrew said surprised.

"Language, Andrew!" Percy berated.

"Sorry Perce." Andrew said, a bit embarrassed by his unusual outburst.

"I suggest you go back to your friends, Andrew. I saw your Ravenclaw roommates. They're three carriages down."

"Thanks Perce!" Andrew shouted, running to where Percy had pointed out.

Three carriages down, he found Gilbert, Joseph, Lauren, Cho, Marietta and Jeremiah all sitting together.

"Hey mate, where have you been?" asked Jeremiah with a big smile.

"He was probably snogging that Granger girl." said Joseph.

"Nah, probably not, Joseph. He was daydreaming of doing that to her while kissing his Potions book." added Gilbert with a snort.

Andrew rolled his eyes. Then Cho piped up.

"Andrew doesn't need to date younger girls like her. There's always other more mature options." she said to the group, while winking at the chubby boy.

The boys wolf-whistled and cheered, while the other two girls giggled at Andrew's reaction.

"I-I-I'll come back later. See you!"

Andrew ran out of the compartment, embarrassed.

A few compartments away, a kid was still looking for a compartment. He passed by many compartments, mostly all full but he found one, and inside was Ginny and Luna.

"Excuse me, but may I join you? I have been looking for a compartment for a long while."

Ginny looked at the boy. Scrawny, light brown skinned, with curly hair. He was definitely trying to drag his trunk with great effort.

"Sure, come in!" She stood up and helped the boy with his trunk and sat down once again. "So what's your name?"

The boy stammered for a bit and he answered finally: "Ernie, my name is Ernie Columbus."

"That is a very uncommon last name. Is your family from abroad?" asked Luna.

"Yeah… my progenitor is from a Spanish wizard line while my mother is an English Muggleborn."

"So, half-blood eh? I'm fine with that!" Ginny answered, grinning. Ernie visibly relaxed after that. They kept talking animatedly until at their compartment door, Andrew popped up.

"Hey Ginny, Luna!" he said merrily. He turned his head towards Ernie, curiously. "Excuse me, who are you?"

"His name is Ernie, Andrew." Ginny offered.

"Nice to meetcha, Ern! My name is Andrew, a third year Ravenclaw. You can call me Andy if you feel like it."

"Thank you." Ernie said, giving Andrew a big smile.

"You're welcome. Wait a sec, I'm going to call Neville and Hermione." He exited the compartment and brought them back to the firsties' compartment.

"Hello Ginny, hello Luna." Neville saluted.

"Hello Neville. You and your friend have a slight infestation of Wrackspurts. Did something happen?"

"Wrackspurts?" Hermione asked.

"They're 'invisible'. A Wrackspurt is an invisible creature which floats into a person's ears, making his/her brain become unfocused. Supposedly, Wrackspurts can be seen with aid of Spectrespecs. Those suffering from Wrackspurt infections can possibly dispel them by thinking positive thoughts." whispered Ginny into Hermione's ear.

"Ohh. That explains…" she muttered to herself. "The thing is that we were questioning ourselves where in the world are Harry and Ron. They didn't board the train at all."

Ginny visibly paled at hearing this. Andrew derailed the conversation to make Ginny forget about it.

"Girls, this is Hermione Granger. Hermione, these are Ginny Weasley, Ron's youngest sister, her friend Luna Lovegood and Ernie… errr…." Andrew turned his head towards the boy in question. "What's your last name, Ern?"

"Columbus."

"Oh, okay!" he chuckled nervously.

"Hello, Hermione Granger." She looked at Hermione like if she were looking at a complex spell book. "Could you perhaps be related to the potioneer Hector Dagworth-Granger, in a way?" said Luna in her usual floaty voice.

Looking up towards Luna, Andrew wondered if it could be real. He ran to his compartment, opened his trunk and brought out his grandfather's genealogy book he had shown Harry. Pointing to it, he asked, "Dagworth-Granger? THE Hector Dagworth-Granger?!"

Everyone else looked at it and knew what Andrew was wondering about.

"Andrew, do you think that I may be related to this potioneer?" Hermione piped up, not trusting on her voice in that second.

"Could be... Hermione IS a Muggle-born, and there's a chance that someone from her father's side was a wizard or at least a Squib…" mused Neville.

"It's a line believed to have died out generations ago," said Andrew, pointing at his grandfather's annotations.

"An inheritance test would let us know one way or the other..." said Neville.

"We could ask the Grangers if they're willing for Hermione to undergo the test through the Gringotts goblins," said Andrew.

"It wouldn't hurt," said Luna. "There's no downside to such a test, except for the initial pain of the pricking to collect the blood. And that's soon passed."

Nodding, Hermione said, "Alright. It's something to consider. I will write to my parents as soon as term starts."

They stayed for a while at the compartment with their new firs year friends and then went back to theirs. As soon as they were comfortable again, talk returned to what they were discussing immediately before Hermione, who was wearing a wind up wristwatch, suggested they change.

On arrival at Hogsmeade, Andrew told Luna, Ginny and Ernie to leave their trunks on board and why. Then he escorted them off the train and sent her on her way to Hagrid, who was doing his "Firs' Years! Firs' Years!" call.

Andrew then ran to the carriage where Hermione, Neville, Gilbert, Joseph were waiting them expectantly.

"What took you so long, mate?" questioned Gilbert.

"Just telling Luna, Ginny and Ernie to leave their stuff in the train and guiding them to Hagrid." he replied, a bit winded by the run.

"Well, lookie here, Andy's the new firstie's guide!" sniggered Joseph. Everyone giggled at Andrew's response to Joseph's comment: blowing a long raspberry.

* * *

 _At the Ford Anglia…_

"Can't be much further, can it?" croaked Ron, hours later still, as the sun started to sink into their floor of cloud, staining it a deep pink. "Ready for a check on the train?"

It was still right below them, winding its way past a snowcapped mountain. It was much darker beneath the canopy of clouds. Ron put his foot on the accelerator and drove them upward again, but as he did so, the engine began to whine. Harry and Ron exchanged nervous glances.

"It's probably just tired," said Ron. "It's never been this far before. ..."

And they both pretended not to notice the whining growing louder and louder as the sky became steadily darker. Stars were blossoming in the blackness.

Harry pulled his sweater back on, trying to ignore the way the windshield wipers were now waving feebly, as though in protest.

"Not far," said Ron, more to the car than to Harry, "not far now," and he patted the dashboard nervously.

When they flew back beneath the clouds a little while later, they had to squint through the darkness for a landmark they knew.

"There!" Harry shouted, making Ron and Hedwig jump. "Straight ahead!"

Silhouetted on the dark horizon, high on the cliff over the lake, stood the many turrets and towers of Hogwarts castle. But the car had begun to shudder and was losing speed.

"Come on," Ron said cajolingly, giving the steering wheel a little shake, "nearly there, come on — "

The engine groaned. Narrow jets of steam were issuing from under the hood. Harry found himself gripping the edges of his seat very hard as they flew toward the lake.

The car gave a nasty wobble. Glancing out of his window, Harry saw the smooth, black, glassy surface of the water, a mile below. Ron's knuckles were white on the steering wheel. The car wobbled again.

"Come on," Ron muttered.

They were over the lake — the castle was right ahead — Ron put his foot down.

There was a loud clunk, a splutter, and the engine died completely.

"Uh-oh," said Ron, into the silence. The nose of the car dropped. They were falling, gathering speed, heading straight for the solid castle wall.

"Noooooo!" Ron yelled, swinging the steering wheel around; they missed the dark stone wall by inches as the car turned in a great arc, soaring over the dark greenhouses, then the vegetable patch, and then out over the black lawns, losing altitude all the time.

Ron let go of the steering wheel completely and pulled his wand out of his back pocket —

"STOP! STOP!" he yelled, whacking the dashboard and the windshield, but they were still plummeting, the ground flying up toward them —

"RON, RON, DON'T BUNGLE! WATCH OUT FOR THAT TREE!" Harry bellowed, lunging for the steering wheel, but too late —

CRUNCH.

With an earsplitting bang of metal on wood, they hit the thick tree trunk and dropped to the ground with a heavy jolt. Steam was billowing from under the crumpled hood; Hedwig was shrieking in terror; a golf-ball-sized lump was throbbing on Harry's head where he had hit the windshield; and to his right, Ron let out a low, despairing groan.

"Are you okay?" Harry said urgently.

"My wand," said Ron, in a shaky voice. "Look at my wand — "

It had snapped, almost in two; the tip was dangling limply, held on by a few splinters.

Harry opened his mouth to say he was sure they'd be able to mend it up at the school, but he never even got started. At that very moment, something hit his side of the car with the force of a charging bull, sending him lurching sideways into Ron, just as an equally heavy blow hit the roof.

"What's happen — ?"

Ron gasped, staring through the windshield, and Harry looked around just in time to see a branch as thick as a python smash into it. The tree they had hit was attacking them. Its trunk was bent almost double, and its gnarled boughs were pummeling every inch of the car it could reach.

"Aaargh!" said Ron as another twisted limb punched a large dent into his door; the windshield was now trembling under a hail of blows from knuckle-like twigs and a branch as thick as a battering ram was pounding furiously on the roof, which seemed to be caving —

"Run for it!" Ron shouted, throwing his full weight against his door, but next second he had been knocked backward into Harry's lap by a vicious uppercut from another branch.

"We're done for!" he moaned as the ceiling sagged, but suddenly the floor of the car was vibrating — the engine had restarted.

"Reverse!" Harry yelled, and the car shot backward; the tree was still trying to hit them; they could hear its roots creaking as it almost ripped itself up, lashing out at them as they sped out of reach.

"That," panted Ron, "was close. Well done, car — "

The car, however, had reached the end of its tether. With two sharp clunks, the doors flew open and Harry felt his seat tip sideways: Next thing he knew he was catapulted into the air and found himself sprawled on the damp ground. Loud thuds told him that the car was ejecting their luggage from the trunk; Hedwig's cage flew through the air and burst open; she rose out of it with an angry screech and sped off toward the castle without a backward look. Then, dented, scratched, and steaming, the car rumbled off into the darkness, its rear lights blazing angrily.

"Come back!" Ron yelled after it, brandishing his broken wand. "Dad'll kill me!"

But the car disappeared from view with one last snort from its exhaust.

"Can you believe our luck?" said Ron miserably, bending down to pick up Scabbers. "Of all the trees we could've hit, we had to get one that hits back."

He glanced over his shoulder at the ancient tree, which was still flailing its branches threateningly.

"Come on," said Harry wearily, "we'd better get up to the school. ..."

It wasn't at all the triumphant arrival they had pictured. Stiff, cold, and bruised, they seized the ends of their trunks and began dragging them up the grassy slope, toward the great oak front doors.

"I think the feast's already started," said Ron, dropping his trunk at the foot of the front steps and crossing quietly to look through a brightly lit window.

"Hey — Harry — come and look — it's the Sorting!"

Harry hurried over and, together, he and Ron peered in at the Great Hall.

Innumerable candles were hovering in midair over four long, crowded tables, making the golden plates and goblets sparkle. Overhead, the bewitched ceiling, which always mirrored the sky outside, sparkled with stars.

Through the forest of pointed black Hogwarts hats, Harry saw a long line of scared-looking first years filing into the Hall. Ginny was among them, easily visible because of her vivid Weasley hair. Meanwhile,

Professor McGonagall, a bespectacled witch with her hair in a tight bun, was placing the famous Hogwarts Sorting Hat on a stool before the newcomers.

Every year, this aged old hat, patched, frayed, and dirty, sorted new students into the four Hogwarts houses (Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin). Harry well remembered putting it on, exactly one year ago, and waiting, petrified, for its decision as it muttered aloud in his ear. For a few horrible seconds he had feared that the hat was going to put him in Slytherin, the House that had turned out more Dark witches and wizards than any other — but he had ended up in Gryffindor, along with Ron, Neville, and Hermione, and the rest of the Weasleys. Last term, Harry and Ron had helped Gryffindor on the House Championship, tying with Slytherin for the first time in seven years.

A very small, mousy-haired boy had been called forward to place the hat on his head. Harry's eyes wandered past him to where Professor Dumbledore, the headmaster, sat watching the Sorting from the staff table, his long silver beard and half-moon glasses shining brightly in the candlelight. Several seats along, Harry saw Gilderoy Lockhart, dressed in robes of aquamarine. And there at the end was Hagrid, huge and hairy, drinking deeply from his goblet.

"Hang on..." Harry muttered to Ron. "There's an empty chair at the staff table... Where's Snape?"

Professor Severus Snape was one of Harry's least favorite teachers. Harry also happened to be Snape's least favorite student. Usually cruel, sarcastic, and disliked by everybody, except the students from his own House (Slytherin), Snape taught Potions. He had slightly mellowed out by the end of last year, during the confrontation of Quirrelmort.

"Maybe he's ill!" said Ron hopefully.

"Maybe he's left," said Harry, "because he missed out on the Defense Against the Dark Arts job again."

"Or he might have been sacked!." said Ron enthusiastically. "I mean, everyone hates him — "

"Or maybe," said a very cold voice right behind them, "he's waiting to hear why you two didn't arrive on the school train."

Harry spun around. There, his black robes rippling in a cold breeze, stood Severus Snape. He was a thin man with sallow skin, a hooked nose, and greasy, shoulder-length black hair, and at this moment, he was smiling in a way that told Harry he and Ron were in very deep trouble.

"Follow me," said Snape.

* * *

 _At the Great Hall…_

Andrew, Hermione, Neville and Andrew's roommates, Gilbert and Joseph had split up after leaving the carriage to their respective tables. Lauren, Marietta, Cho and Jeremiah were already waiting at the table when they sat down.

So, d'you think this year we will have more 'Claws than last year?" said Lauren, while resting her shoulder on her boyfriend's shoulder.

"Could be. I know that Lovegood is a shoo-in to our house." Andrew declared.

"Lovegood? Do you mean Loony Lovegood is entering Hogwarts this year? I doubt she'll get into our house." snorted Marietta.

Andrew glared at the girl. "So, you wanna bet? I bet 5 galleons that Luna is going to be a Ravenclaw."

"Oh, you just got yourself a deal, mister!" Marietta proclaimed.

A few minutes into the Sorting, Ernie's sorting turned into a Hatstall.

"A Hatstall? Those are rare!" whispered Cho to everyone in range. "I've heard there's haven't been a Hatstall since McGonagall."

A few seconds later, he was sorted into Slytherin. After that, a boy named Colin Creevey turned to be the first Gryffindor along with 3 more boys and 3 girls.

In that instant, McGonagall called out: "Lovegood, Luna!"

"This'll be fun. Better be giving me those 5 Galleons, Andy!" smirked Marietta.

Not even quite placing the Sorting Hat on Luna's head and the hat shouted "RAVENCLAW!" leaving Marietta with her mouth open in surprise.

"Read 'em a weep, girls, read 'em and weep." Andrew said, extending his arm towards the girl, asking for his 5 Galleons.

A while later, they finished the sorting with Ginny. She became the last Weasley to be sorted into Gryffindor. In total, there were 7 Slytherins, 8 Gryffindors, 6 Ravenclaws and 9 Hufflepuffs.

* * *

 _Back with Snape…_

Not daring even to look at each other, Harry and Ron followed Snape up the steps into the vast, echoing entrance hall, which was lit with flaming torches. A delicious smell of food was wafting from the Great Hall, but Snape led them away from the warmth and light, down a narrow stone staircase that led into the dungeons.

"In!" he said, opening a door halfway down the cold passageway and pointing.

They entered Snape's office, shivering. The shadowy walls were lined with shelves of large glass jars, in which floated all manner of revolting things Harry didn't really want to know the name of at the moment. The fireplace was dark and empty. Snape closed the door and turned to look at them.

"So," he said softly, "the train isn't good enough for the famous Harry Potter and his faithful sidekick, Weasley. Wanted to arrive with a bang, did we, boys?"

"No, sir, it was the barrier at King's Cross, it — "

"Silence!" said Snape coldly. "What have you done with the car?"

Ron gulped. This wasn't the first time Snape had given Harry the impression of being able to read minds. But a moment later, he understood, as Snape unrolled today's issue of the Evening Prophet

"You were seen," he hissed, showing them the headline: FLYING FORD ANGLIA MYSTIFIES MUGGLES. He began to read aloud: "Two Muggles in London, convinced they saw an old car flying over the Post Office tower... at noon in Norfolk, Mrs. Hetty Bayliss, while hanging out her washing... Mr. Angus Fleet, of Peebles, reported to police... Six or seven Muggles in all. I believe your father works in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office?" he said, looking up at Ron and smiling still more nastily. "Dear, dear... his own son ..."

Harry felt as though he'd just been walloped in the stomach by one of the mad tree's larger branches. If anyone found out Mr. Weasley had bewitched the car... he hadn't thought of that. ...

"I noticed, in my search of the park, that considerable damage seems to have been done to a very valuable Whomping Willow," Snape went on.

"That tree did more damage to us than we — " Ron blurted out.

"Silence!" snapped Snape again. "Most unfortunately, you are not in my House and the decision to expel you does not rest with me. I shall go and fetch the people who do have that happy power. You will wait here."

Harry and Ron stared at each other, white-faced. Harry didn't feel hungry anymore. He now felt extremely sick. He tried not to look at a large, slimy something suspended in green liquid on a shelf behind Snape's desk. If Snape had gone to fetch Professor McGonagall, head of Gryffindor House, they were hardly any better off. She might be fairer than Snape, but she was still extremely strict.

Ten minutes later, Snape returned, and sure enough it was Professor McGonagall who accompanied him. Harry had seen Professor McGonagall angry on several occasions, but either he had forgotten just how thin her mouth could go, or he had never seen her as angry before. She raised her wand the moment she entered; Harry and Ron both flinched, but she merely pointed it at the empty fireplace, where flames suddenly erupted.

"Sit," she said, and they both backed into chairs by the fire.

"Explain," she said, her glasses glinting ominously.

Ron launched into the story, starting with the barrier at the station refusing to let them through.

" — so we had no choice, Professor, we couldn't get on the train."

"Why didn't you send us a letter by owl? I believe you have an owl?" Professor McGonagall said coldly to Harry.

Harry gaped at her. Now she'd said it, which seemed the obvious thing to have done.

"I — I didn't think — "

"That is obvious," said Professor McGonagall, "as your friend Mr. Rivers did send his owl with a note explaining what had transpired at the platform. But I wonder what happened that you two decided to leave your friends behind and leave with the car."

There was a knock on the office door and Snape, now looking happier than ever, opened it. There stood the headmaster, Professor Dumbledore.

Harry's whole body went numb. Dumbledore was looking unusually grave. He stared down his very crooked nose at them, and Harry suddenly found himself wishing both he and Ron were still being beaten up by the Whomping Willow.

There was a long silence. Then Dumbledore said, "Please explain why you did this."

It would have been better if he had shouted. Harry hated the disappointment in his voice. For some reason, he was unable to look Dumbledore in the eyes, and spoke instead to his knees. He told Dumbledore everything except that Mr. Weasley owned the bewitched car, making it sound as though he and Ron had happened to find a flying car parked outside the station. He knew Dumbledore would see through this at once, but Dumbledore asked no questions about the car. When Harry had finished, he merely continued to peer at them through his spectacles.

"We'll go and get our stuff," said Ron in a hopeless sort of voice.

"What are you talking about, Weasley?" barked Professor McGonagall.

"Well, you're expelling us, aren't you?" said Ron.

Harry looked quickly at Dumbledore.

"Not today, Mr. Weasley," said Dumbledore. "But I must impress upon both of you the seriousness of what you have done. I will be writing to both your families tonight. I must also warn you that if you do anything like this again, I will have no choice but to expel you."

Snape looked as though Christmas had been canceled. He cleared his throat and said, "Professor Dumbledore, these boys have flouted the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry, caused serious damage to an old and valuable tree — surely acts of this nature — "

"It will be for Professor McGonagall to decide on these boys' punishments, Severus," said Dumbledore calmly. "They are in her House and are therefore her responsibility." He turned to Professor McGonagall. "I must go back to the feast, Minerva, I've got to give out a few notices. Come, Severus, there's a delicious-looking custard tart I want to sample — "

Snape shot a look of anger at Harry and Ron as he allowed himself to be swept out of his office, leaving them alone with Professor McGonagall, who was still eyeing them like a wrathful eagle.

"You'd better get along to the hospital wing, Weasley, you're bleeding."

"Not much," said Ron, hastily wiping the cut over his eye with his sleeve. "Professor, I wanted to watch my sister being Sorted — "

"The Sorting Ceremony is over," said Professor McGonagall. "Your sister is also in Gryffindor."

"Oh, good," said Ron.

"And speaking of Gryffindor — " Professor McGonagall said sharply, but Harry cut in: "Professor, when we took the car, term hadn't started, so — so Gryffindor shouldn't really have points taken from it — should it?" he finished, watching her anxiously.

Professor McGonagall gave him a piercing look, but he was sure she had almost smiled. Her mouth looked less thin, anyway.

"I will not take any points from Gryffindor," she said, and Harry's heart lightened considerably. "But you will both get a detention."

It was better than Harry had expected. As for Dumbledore's writing to the Dursleys, that was nothing. Harry knew perfectly well they'd just be disappointed that the Whomping Willow hadn't squashed him flat.

Professor McGonagall raised her wand again and pointed it at Snape's desk. A large plate of sandwiches, two silver goblets, and a jug of iced pumpkin juice appeared with a pop.

"You will eat in here and then go straight up to your dormitory," she said. "I must also return to the feast."

When the door had closed behind her, Ron let out a long, low whistle.

"I thought we'd had it," he said, grabbing a sandwich.

"So did I," said Harry, taking one, too.

"Can you believe our luck, though?" said Ron thickly through a mouthful of chicken and ham. "Fred and George must've flown that car five or six times and no Muggle ever saw them." He swallowed and took another huge bite. "Why couldn't we get through the barrier?"

Harry shrugged. "We'll have to watch our step from now on, though," he said, taking a grateful swig of pumpkin juice. "Wish we could've gone up to the feast..."

"She didn't want us showing off," said Ron sagely. "Doesn't want people to think it's clever, arriving by flying car."

When they had eaten as many sandwiches as they could (the plate kept refilling itself), they rose and left the office, treading the familiar path to Gryffindor Tower. The castle was quiet; it seemed that the feast was over. They walked past muttering portraits and creaking suits of armor, and climbed narrow flights of stone stairs, until at last they reached the passage where the secret entrance to Gryffindor Tower was hidden, behind an oil painting of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress.

"Password?" she said as they approached.

"Er — " said Harry.

They didn't know the new year's password, not having met a Gryffindor prefect yet, but help came almost immediately.

They heard hurrying feet behind them and turned to see Hermione, Andrew and Neville dashing toward them.

"There you are! Where have you been?" Andrew asked.

"The most ridiculous rumors — someone said you'd been expelled for crashing a flying car — " Neville interrupted.

"Well, we haven't been expelled," Harry assured her.

"You're not telling me you did fly here?" said Hermione, sounding almost as severe as Professor McGonagall.

"Skip the lecture," said Ron impatiently, "and tell us the new password."

"It's 'wattlebird,' " said Hermione impatiently, "but that's not the point — "

Her words were cut short, however, as the portrait of the Fat Lady swung open and there was a sudden storm of clapping. It looked as though the whole of Gryffindor House was still awake, packed into the circular common room, standing on the lopsided tables and squashy armchairs, waiting for them to arrive. Arms reached through the portrait hole to pull Harry and Ron inside, leaving Hermione and Neville to scramble in after them.

"Brilliant!" yelled Lee Jordan. "Inspired! What an entrance! Flying a car right into the Whomping Willow, people'll be talking about that one for years —

"Good for you," said a fifth year Harry had never spoken to; someone was patting him on the back as though he'd just won a marathon; Fred and George pushed their way to the front of the crowd and said together, "Why couldn't we've come in the car, eh?"

Ron was scarlet in the face, grinning embarrassedly, but Harry could see one person who didn't look happy at all. Percy was visible over the heads of some excited first years, and he seemed to be trying to get near enough to start telling them off. Harry nudged Ron in the ribs and nodded in Percy's direction. Ron got the point at once.

"Got to get upstairs — bit tired," he said, and the two of them started pushing their way toward the door on the other side of the room, which led to a spiral staircase and the dormitories.

"'Night," Harry called back to Hermione, who was wearing a scowl just like Percy's.

They managed to get to the other side of the common room, still having their backs slapped, and gained the peace of the staircase. They hurried up it, right to the top, and at last reached the door of their old dormitory, which now had a sign on it saying **SECOND YEARS**. They entered the familiar, circular room, with its five four-posters hung with red velvet and its high, narrow windows. Their trunks had been brought up for them and stood at the ends of their beds.

Ron grinned guiltily at Harry.

"I know I shouldn't've enjoyed that or anything, but —

The dormitory door flew open and in came the other second year Gryffindor boys, Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas.

"Unbelievable!" beamed Seamus.

"Cool," said Dean.

Harry couldn't help it. He grinned, too.


	13. Chapter 12 - Dunderheads Galore!

Chapter 12 – Dunderheads Galore!

 **Author's Note: Sorry for the wait! Chapter 12 is out! I finished this chapter with the seasonal flu plaguing my body plus the fact that I am unemployed once again (not easy to get sprung after 2 months after opening...) The schedule will stand back like it is currently: monthly chapter. Shoutouts to the followers: _The Human Virus_ in the Slytherin's Secret and again _The Human Virus_ and _Withdrawncar14_ in the Legend of the Stone!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

* * *

The next day, however, Harry barely grinned once. Things started to go downhill from breakfast in the Great Hall. The four long House tables were laden with tureens of porridge, plates of kippers, mountains of toast, and dishes of eggs and bacon, beneath the enchanted ceiling (today, a dull, cloudy gray).

Harry and Ron sat down at the Gryffindor table next to Hermione, who had her copy of Voyages with Vampires propped open against a milk jug. There was a slight stiffness in the way she said "Morning," which told Harry that she was still disapproving of the way they had arrived.

Neville, on the other hand, greeted them cheerfully.

"Mail's due any minute — I think Gran's sending a few things I asked her for."

Andrew propped by and sat down in front of Hermione and pried the book from her hands.

"Mione, why are you reading that bullcrap?" Andrew questioned her.

"THIS isn't bullcrap as you call it, Andrew." she answered, swiping the book back from the Ravenclaw.

"Hermione, this guy is a complete fraud! The books are inconsistent, and most of it are pure fallacies! Not to count the other secrets I've heard about him…" Andrew growled.

"And pray tell how do you know about that?" Hermione asked Andrew defiantly.

"If you mean about the inconsistencies, just reading the books in detail can confirm it. And about the secrets: son of an Auror, remember? Besides, Grandpa Louie told me to be wary of him."

Harry snorted at the exchange between the two and he had only just started his porridge when, sure enough, there was a rushing sound overhead and a hundred or so owls streamed in, circling the hall and dropping letters and packages into the chattering crowd. A big, lumpy package bounced off Neville's head and, a second later, something large and gray fell into Hermione's jug, spraying them all with milk and feathers.

"Errol! Bloody bird's a menace!" said Ron, pulling the bedraggled owl out by the feet. Errol slumped, unconscious, onto the table, his legs in the air and a damp red envelope in his beak.

"Oh, no — " Ron gasped.

"It's all right, he's still alive," said Hermione, prodding Errol gently with the tip of her finger.

"It's not that — it's that."

Ron was pointing at the red envelope. It looked quite ordinary to Harry, but Ron, Andrew and Neville were looking at it as though they expected it to explode.

"What's the matter?" said Harry.

"She's — she's –" said Ron faintly.

"Oi, you guys! Weasley's got sent a Howler!" said Seamus. The people nearby giggled at the situation.

"You'd better open it, Ron," said Neville in a timid whisper. "It'll be worse if you don't. My gran sent me one once, and I ignored it and" — he gulped — "it was horrible."

Harry looked from their petrified faces to the red envelope.

"What's a Howler?" he said.

But Ron's whole attention was fixed on the letter, which had begun to smoke at the corners.

"Open it," Neville urged. "It'll all be over in a few minutes — "

Ron stretched out a shaking hand, eased the envelope from Errol's beak, and slit it open. Neville stuffed his fingers in his ears. A split second later, Harry knew why. He thought for a moment it had exploded; a roar of sound filled the huge hall, shaking dust from the ceiling.

"RONALD WEASLEY!" The Howler shouted,

"HOW DARE YOU STEAL THAT CAR, I WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN SURPRISED IF THEY'D EXPELLED YOU, YOU WAIT TILL I GET HOLD OF YOU, I DON'T SUPPOSE YOU STOPPED TO THINK WHAT YOUR FATHER AND I WENT THROUGH WHEN WE SAW IT WAS GONE — "

Mrs. Weasley's yells, a hundred times louder than usual, made the plates and spoons rattle on the table, and echoed deafeningly off the stone walls. People throughout the hall were swiveling around to see who had received the Howler, and Ron sank so low in his chair that only his crimson forehead could be seen.

"— LETTER FROM DUMBLEDORE LAST NIGHT, I THOUGHT YOUR FATHER WOULD DIE OF SHAME, WE DIDN'T BRING YOU UP TO BEHAVE LIKE THIS, YOU AND HARRY COULD BOTH HAVE DIED — "

Harry had been wondering when his name was going to crop up. He tried very hard to look as though he couldn't hear the voice that was making his eardrums throb.

"— ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED — YOUR FATHER'S FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK, IT'S ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT AND IF YOU PUT ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE WE'LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT BACK HOME."

The Howler turned towards Ginny, who was slightly cowering behind her brother Percy at the sound of their mother's voice. The Howler's tone went to a more calmer and soothing one.

"OH GINNY, CONGRATULATIONS ON MAKING ON TO GRYFFINDOR. YOUR FATHER AND I ARE SO PROUD!"

The Howler returned to face Ron and blew a raspberry at him. A ringing silence fell. The red envelope, which had dropped from Ron's hand, burst into flames and curled into ashes. Harry and Ron sat stunned, as though a tidal wave had just passed over them. A few people laughed and, gradually, a babble of talk broke out again.

Hermione closed Voyages with Vampires and looked down at the top of Ron's head.

"Well, I don't know what you expected, Ron, but you –"

"Don't tell me I deserved it," snapped Ron.

Harry pushed his porridge away. His insides were burning with guilt. Mr. Weasley was facing an inquiry at work. After all Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had done for him over the summer . . .

But he had no time to dwell on this; Professor McGonagall shooed Andrew back to the Ravenclaw table was moving along the Gryffindor table, handing out course schedules. Harry took his and saw that they had double Herbology with the Hufflepuffs first.

Andrew had his first class too: Potions with the Gryffindors. His eyes lit in marvel and said his goodbyes, running towards Ravenclaw Tower to pick up his things.

Harry, Ron, Neville and Hermione left the castle together, crossed the vegetable patch, and made for the greenhouses, where the magical plants were kept. At least the Howler had done one good thing: Hermione seemed to think they had now been punished enough and was being perfectly friendly again.

As they neared the greenhouses they saw the rest of the class standing outside, waiting for Professor Sprout. Harry, Ron, Neville and Hermione had only just joined them when she came striding into view across the lawn, accompanied by Gilderoy Lockhart.

Professor Sprout's arms were full of bandages, and with another twinge of guilt, Harry spotted the Whomping Willow in the distance, several of its branches now in slings.

Professor Sprout was a squat little witch who wore a patched hat over her flyaway hair; there was usually a large amount of earth on her clothes and her fingernails would have made Aunt Petunia faint. Gilderoy Lockhart, however, was immaculate in sweeping robes of turquoise, his golden hair shining under a perfectly positioned turquoise hat with gold trimming.

"Oh, hello there!" he called, beaming around at the assembled students. "Just been showing Professor Sprout the right way to doctor a Whomping Willow! But I don't want you running away with the idea that I'm better at Herbology than she is! I just happen to have met several of these exotic plants on my travels!"

Neville snorted at the ludicrous idea of Lockhart being better than Professor Sprout. She was his role model as a Herbologist.

"Greenhouse three today, chaps!" said Professor Sprout, who was looking distinctly disgruntled, not at all her usual cheerful self.

There was a murmur of interest. They had only ever worked in greenhouse one before — greenhouse three housed far more interesting and dangerous plants. Neville's eyes glinted in curiosity, just like their Ravenclaw friend whenever he heard about his favorite class. Professor Sprout took a large key from her belt and unlocked the door. Harry caught a whiff of damp earth and fertilizer mingling with the heavy perfume of some giant, umbrella-sized flowers dangling from the ceiling. Neville ran to go in first into the greenhouse. He was about to follow Ron and Hermione inside when Lockhart's hand shot out.

"Harry! I've been wanting a word — you don't mind if he's a couple of minutes late, do you, Professor Sprout?"

Judging by Professor Sprout's scowl, she did mind, but Lockhart said, "That's the ticket," and closed the greenhouse door in her face.

"Harry," said Lockhart, his large white teeth gleaming in the sunlight as he shook his head. "Harry, Harry, Harry."

Completely nonplussed, Harry said nothing.

"When I heard — well, of course, it was all my fault. Could have kicked myself."

Harry had no idea what he was talking about. He was about to say so when Lockhart went on, "Don't know when I've been more shocked. Flying a car to Hogwarts! Well, of course, I knew at once why you'd done it. Stood out a mile. Harry, Harry, Harry."

It was remarkable how he could show every one of those brilliant teeth even when he wasn't talking.

"Gave you a taste for publicity, didn't I?" said Lockhart. "Gave you the bug. You got onto the front page of the paper with me and you couldn't wait to do it again."

"Oh, no, Professor, see — "

"Harry, Harry, Harry," said Lockhart, reaching out and grasping his shoulder. "I understand. Natural to want a bit more once you've had that first taste — and I blame myself for giving you that, because it was bound to go to your head — but see here, young man, you can't start flying cars to try and get yourself noticed. Just calm down, all right? You'll have plenty of time for all that when you're older. Yes, yes, I know what you're thinking! 'It's all right for him, he's an internationally famous wizard already! ' But when I was twelve, I was just as much of a nobody as you are now.

Harry's eyebrow shot up in a questioning manner. Did this daft moron live under a rock or something? Calling him a nobody?! Harry's train of thought was stopped by the rantings of Lockhart.

"In fact, I'd say I was even more of a nobody! I mean, a few people have heard of you, haven't they? All that business with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!"

He glanced at the lightning scar on Harry's forehead.

"I know, I know — it's not quite as good as winning Witch Weekly's Most-Charming-Smile Award five times in a row, as I have — but it's a start, Harry, it's a start"

He gave Harry a hearty wink and strode off. Harry stood stunned for a few seconds, then, remembering he was supposed to be in the greenhouse, he opened the door and slid inside.

Professor Sprout was standing behind a trestle bench in the center of the greenhouse. About twenty pairs of different-colored ear-muffs were lying on the bench. When Harry had taken his place between Ron and Hermione, she said, "We'll be repotting Mandrakes today. Now, who can tell me the properties of the Mandrake?"

To nobody's surprise, Hermione's hand was first into the air. Their surprise was when Neville Longbottom also had his hand up.

"Mandrake, or Mandragora, is a powerful restorative," said Hermione, sounding as usual as though she had swallowed the textbook. "It is used to return people who have been transfigured or cursed to their original state."

"Excellent. Ten points to Gryffindor," said Professor Sprout. "The Mandrake forms an essential part of most antidotes. It is also, however, dangerous. Who can tell me why?"

Hermione's hand narrowly missed Harry's glasses as it shot up again. Neville also rose his hand.

"Yes, Mister Longbottom?"

"The cry of the Mandrake is fatal to anyone who hears it," he said promptly. "As the Mandrakes are only seedlings, their cries won't kill yet. However, they will knock you out for several hours."

"Precisely. Take ten points," said Professor Sprout. "Now, as Mr. Longbottom pointed out, the Mandrakes we have here are still very young."

She pointed to a row of deep trays as she spoke, and everyone shuffled forward for a better look. A hundred or so tufty little plants, purplish green in color, were growing there in rows. They looked quite unremarkable to Harry, who didn't have the slightest idea what Hermione meant by the "cry" of the Mandrake.

"Everyone take a pair of earmuffs," said Professor Sprout.

There was a scramble as everyone tried to seize a pair that wasn't pink and fluffy.

"When I tell you to put them on, make sure your ears are completely covered," said Professor Sprout. "When it is safe to remove them, I will give you the thumbs- up. Right — earmuffs on."

Harry snapped the earmuffs over his ears. They shut out sound completely. Professor Sprout put the pink, fluffy pair over her own ears, rolled up the sleeves of her robes, grasped one of the tufty plants firmly, and pulled hard.

Harry let out a gasp of surprise that no one could hear. Instead of roots, a small, muddy, and extremely ugly baby popped out of the earth. The leaves were growing right out of his head. He had pale green, mottled skin, and was clearly bawling at the top of his lungs.

Professor Sprout took a large plant pot from under the table and plunged the Mandrake into it, burying him in dark, damp compost until only the tufted leaves were visible. Professor Sprout dusted off her hands, gave them all the thumbs-up, and removed her own earmuffs.

"I'm sure none of you want to miss your first day back, make sure your earmuffs are securely in place while you work. I will attract your attention when it is time to pack up."

"Four to a tray — there is a large supply of pots here — compost in the sacks over there — and be careful of the Venomous Tentacula, it's teething."

She gave a sharp slap to a spiky, dark red plant as she spoke, making it draw in the long feelers that had been inching sneakily over her shoulder.

Harry, Ron, Neville and Hermione were sitting with their tray nearby a curly-haired Hufflepuff boy Harry knew by sight but had never spoken to. With him was a portly blond boy, Ernie Macmillan, and the two other Hufflepuffs, Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott.

"Justin Finch-Fletchley," he said brightly, shaking Harry by the hand. "Know who you are, of course, the famous Harry Potter... And you're Hermione Granger — always top in everything, and you must be Neville Longbottom! Professor Sprout has spoken well about you." (Hermione beamed as she had her hand shaken too, while Neville's ears turned pink) " — and Ron Weasley. Wasn't that your flying car?"

Ron didn't smile. The Howler was obviously still on his mind.

"That Lockhart's something, isn't he?" said Justin happily. Ron and Neville snorted at the comment as they began filling their plant pots with dragon dung compost. "Awfully brave chap. Have you read his books? I'd have died of fear if I'd been cornered in a telephone booth by a werewolf, but he stayed cool and — zap — just fantastic.

"My name was down for Eton, you know. I can't tell you how glad I am I came here instead. Of course, Mother was slightly disappointed, but since I made her read Lockhart's books I think she's begun to see how useful it'll be to have a fully trained wizard in the family..."

After that they didn't have much chance to talk. Their earmuffs were back on and they needed to concentrate on the Mandrakes. Professor Sprout had made it look extremely easy, but it wasn't. The Mandrakes didn't like coming out of the earth, but didn't seem to want to go back into it either. They squirmed, kicked, flailed their sharp little fists, and gnashed their teeth; Harry spent ten whole minutes trying to squash a particularly fat one into a pot.

By the end of the class, Harry, like everyone else, was sweaty, aching, and covered in earth. Everyone traipsed back to the castle for a quick wash and then the Gryffindors hurried off to Transfiguration.

Professor McGonagall's classes were always hard work, but today was especially difficult. Everything Harry had learned last year seemed to have leaked out of his head during the summer. He was supposed to be turning a beetle into a button, but all he managed to do was give his beetle a lot of exercise as it scuttled over the desktop avoiding his wand.

Ron was having far worse problems. He had patched up his wand with some borrowed Spellotape, but it seemed to be damaged beyond repair. It kept crackling and sparking at odd moments, and every time Ron tried to transfigure his beetle it engulfed him in thick gray smoke that smelled of rotten eggs. Unable to see what he was doing, Ron accidentally squashed his beetle with his elbow and had to ask for a new one. Professor McGonagall wasn't pleased.

Harry was relieved to hear the lunch bell. His brain felt like a wrung sponge. Everyone filed out of the classroom except him and Ron, who was whacking his wand furiously on the desk.

"Stupid — useless — thing — "

"Write home for another one," Harry suggested as the wand let off a volley of bangs like a firecracker.

"Oh, yeah, and get another Howler back," said Ron, stuffing the now hissing wand into his bag. "'It's your own fault your wand got snapped — '"

Andrew appeared behind them while exiting from their class. He had successfully finished his first Arithmancy class. They went down to lunch, where Ron's mood was not improved by Hermione's showing them the handful of perfect coat buttons she had produced in Transfiguration.

"What've we got this afternoon?" said Harry, hastily changing the subject.

"Defense Against the Dark Arts," said Hermione at once.

"Why," demanded Ron, seizing her schedule, "have you outlined all Lockhart's lessons in little hearts?"

Hermione snatched the schedule back, blushing furiously. Andrew glared at the schedule in jealousy.

They finished lunch and went outside into the overcast courtyard. Hermione sat down on a stone step and buried her nose in Voyages with Vampires again. Harry and Ron stood talking about Quidditch for several minutes before Harry became aware that he was being closely watched. Looking up, he saw the very small, mousy-haired boy he'd seen trying on the Sorting Hat last night staring at Harry as though transfixed. He was clutching what looked like an ordinary Muggle camera, and the moment Harry looked at him, he went bright red.

"All right, Harry? I'm — I'm Colin Creevey," he said breathlessly, taking a tentative step forward. "I'm in Gryffindor, too. D'you think — would it be all right if — can I have a picture?" he said, raising the camera hopefully.

"A picture?" Harry repeated blankly.

"So I can prove I've met you," said Colin Creevey eagerly, edging further forward. "I know all about you. Everyone's told me. About how you survived when You-Know-Who tried to kill you and how he disappeared and everything and how you've still got a lightning scar on your forehead" (his eyes raked Harry's hairline) "and a boy in my dormitory said if I develop the film in the right potion, the pictures'll move."

"Well, kid, I may help you with that. Andrew Rivers, future apprentice to Professor Snape at your order." He brought his hand out and Colin shook it vigorously. "I'll help you on one condition: We'll give you this one picture opportunity and you'll relax. Asking for pictures out of the blue without knowing is a bit rude." He meekly nodded.

"Let's settle a date for it. Deal?" Andrew asked.

Colin drew a great shuddering breath of excitement and said, "It's amazing here, isn't it? I never knew all the odd stuff I could do was magic till I got the letter from Hogwarts. My dad's a milkman, he couldn't believe it either. So I'm taking loads of pictures to send home to him. Maybe your friend could take it and I could stand next to you? And then, could you sign it?"

"Signed photos? You're giving out signed photos, Potter?"

Loud and scathing, Draco Malfoy's voice echoed around the courtyard. He had stopped right behind Colin, flanked, as he always was at Hogwarts, by his large and thuggish cronies, Crabbe and Goyle.

"Everyone line up!" Malfoy roared to the crowd. "Harry Potter's giving out signed photos!"

"No, I'm not," said Harry angrily, his fists clenching. "Shut up, Malfoy."

"You're just jealous," piped up Colin, whose entire body was about as thick as Crabbe's neck.

"Jealous?" said Malfoy, who didn't need to shout anymore: Half the courtyard was listening in. "Of what? I don't want a foul scar right across my head, thanks. I don't think getting your head cut open makes you that special, myself."

Crabbe and Goyle were sniggering stupidly.

"Eat slugs, Malfoy," said Ron angrily. Crabbe stopped laughing and started rubbing his knuckles in a menacing way. Andrew brandished his wand menacingly and pointed it between Crabbe's eyebrows.

"Be careful, Weasley," sneered Malfoy. "You don't want to start any trouble or your mommy'll have to come and take you away from school." He put on a shrill, piercing voice. "If you put another toe out of line…"

A knot of Slytherin fifth years nearby laughed loudly at this.

"Weasley would like a signed photo, Potter," smirked Malfoy. "It'd be worth more than his family's whole house — "

Ron whipped out his Spellotaped wand, but Hermione shut Voyages with Vampires with a snap and whispered, "Look out!"

"What's all this, what's all this?" Gilderoy Lockhart was striding toward them, his turquoise robes swirling behind him. "Who's giving out signed photos?"

Harry started to speak but he was cut short as Lockhart flung an arm around his shoulders and thundered jovially, "Shouldn't have asked! We meet again, Harry!"

Pinned to Lockhart's side and burning with humiliation, Harry saw Malfoy slide smirking back into the crowd.

"Come on then, Mr. Creevey," said Lockhart, beaming at Colin. "A double portrait, can't do better than that, and well both sign it for you."

Colin fumbled for his camera and took the picture as the bell rang behind them, signaling the start of afternoon classes.

"Off you go, move along there," Lockhart called to the crowd, and he set off back to the castle with Harry, who was wishing he knew a good Vanishing Spell, still clasped to his side.

"A word to the wise, Harry," said Lockhart paternally as they entered the building through a side door. "I covered up for you back there with young Creevey — if he was photographing me, too, your schoolmates won't think you're setting yourself up so much. ..."

Deaf to Harry's stammers, Lockhart swept him down a corridor lined with staring students and up a staircase.

"Let me just say that handing out signed pictures at this stage of your career isn't sensible — looks a tad bigheaded, Harry, to be frank. There may well come a time when, like me, you'll need to keep a stack handy wherever you go, but" — he gave a little chortle — "I don't think you're quite there yet."

They had reached Lockhart's classroom and he let Harry go at last. Harry yanked his robes straight and headed for a seat at the very back of the class, where he busied himself with piling all seven of Lockhart's books in front of him, so that he could avoid looking at the real thing.

The rest of the class came clattering in, and Ron and Hermione sat down on either side of Harry, while Neville sat in front of them with Seamus and Dean.

"You could've fried an egg on your face," said Ron. "You'd better hope Creevey doesn't meet Ginny, or they'll be starting a Harry Potter fan club."

"Shut up," snapped Harry. The last thing he needed was for Lockhart to hear the phrase "Harry Potter fan club."

When the whole class was seated, Lockhart cleared his throat loudly and silence fell. He reached forward, picked up Neville Longbottom's copy of Travels with Trolls, and held it up to show his own, winking portrait on the front.

"Me," he said, pointing at it and winking as well. "Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most- Charming- Smile Award — but I don't talk about that. I didn't get rid of the Bandon Banshee by smiling at her!"

He waited for them to laugh; a few people smiled weakly.

"I see you've all bought a complete set of my books — well done. I thought we'd start today with a little quiz. Nothing to worry about — just to check how well you've read them, how much you've taken in — "

When he had handed out the test papers he returned to the front of the class and said, "You have thirty minutes — start — now!"

Harry looked down at his paper and read:

 _ **1\. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite color?**_

 _ **2\. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's secret ambition?**_

 _ **3\. What, in your opinion, is Gilderoy Lockhart's greatest achievement to date?**_

On and on it went, over three sides of paper, right down to:

 _ **54\. When is Gilderoy Lockhart's birthday, and what would his ideal gift be?**_

Half an hour later, Lockhart collected the papers and rifled through them in front of the class.

"Tut, tut — hardly any of you remembered that my favorite color is lilac. I say so in Year with the Yeti. And a few of you need to read Wanderings with Werewolves more carefully — I clearly state in chapter twelve that my ideal birthday gift would be harmony between all magic and non-magic peoples — though I wouldn't say no to a large bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhisky!"

He gave them another roguish wink. Ron was now staring at Lockhart with an expression of disbelief on his face; Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, who were sitting in front, were shaking with silent laughter. Hermione, on the other hand, was listening to Lockhart with rapt attention and gave a start when he mentioned her name.

"... but Miss Hermione Granger knew my secret ambition is to rid the world of evil and market my own range of hair-care potions — good girl! In fact" — he flipped her paper over — "full marks! Where is Miss Hermione Granger?"

Hermione raised a trembling hand.

"Excellent!" beamed Lockhart. "Quite excellent! Take ten points for Gryffindor! And so — to business — "

He bent down behind his desk and lifted a large, covered cage onto it.

"Now — be warned! It is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to wizardkind! You may find yourselves facing your worst fears in this room. Know only that no harm can befall you whilst I am here. All I ask is that you remain calm."

In spite of himself, Harry leaned around his pile of books for a better look at the cage. Lockhart placed a hand on the cover. Dean and Seamus had stopped laughing now. Neville was cowering in his front row seat.

"I must ask you not to scream," said Lockhart in a low voice. "It might provoke them."

As the whole class held its breath, Lockhart whipped off the cover.

"Yes," he said dramatically. "Freshly caught Cornish pixies."

Seamus Finnigan couldn't control himself. He let out a snort of laughter that even Lockhart couldn't mistake for a scream of terror.

"Yes?" He smiled at Seamus.

"Well, they're not — they're not very — dangerous, are they?" Seamus choked.

"Don't be so sure!" said Lockhart, waggling a finger annoyingly at Seamus. "Devilish tricky little blighters they can be!"

The pixies were electric blue and about eight inches high, with pointed faces and voices so shrill it was like listening to a lot of budgies arguing. The moment the cover had been removed, they had started jabbering and rocketing around, rattling the bars and making bizarre faces at the people nearest them.

"Right, then," Lockhart said loudly. "Let's see what you make of them!" And he opened the cage.

It was pandemonium. The pixies shot in every direction like rockets. Two of them seized Neville by the ears and lifted him into the air. Several shot straight through the window, showering the back row with broken glass. The rest proceeded to wreck the classroom more effectively than a rampaging rhino. They grabbed ink bottles and sprayed the class with them, shredded books and papers, tore pictures from the walls, up-ended the waste basket, grabbed bags and books and threw them out of the smashed window; within minutes, half the class was sheltering under desks and Neville was swinging from the iron chandelier in the ceiling.

"Come on now — round them up, round them up, they're only pixies," Lockhart shouted.

He rolled up his sleeves, brandished his wand, and bellowed, " _Peskipiksi Pesternomi!_ "

It had absolutely no effect; one of the pixies seized his wand and threw it out of the window, too. Lockhart gulped and dived under his own desk, narrowly avoiding being squashed by Neville, who fell a second later as the chandelier gave way.

"Why is it always me?" Neville said, sighing. He cleaned a bit of the dust that fell on him after the chandelier fell off.

The bell rang and there was a mad rush toward the exit. In the relative calm that followed, Lockhart straightened up, caught sight of Harry, Neville, Ron, and Hermione, who were almost at the door, and said, "Well, I'll ask you four to just nip the rest of them back into their cage." He swept past them and shut the door quickly behind him.

"Can you believe him?" roared Ron as one of the remaining pixies bit him painfully on the ear.

"He just wants to give us some hands-on experience," said Hermione, immobilizing two pixies at once with a clever Freezing Charm and stuffing them back into their cage.

"Hands on?" said Harry, who was trying to grab a pixie dancing out of reach with its tongue out. "Hermione, he didn't have a clue what he was doing!"

"Ugh, this is getting tedious! _Immobulus!_ " Every pixie stopped in midair, like if they were floating in space. They started plucking them from the air and placing them in the cage.

"He even used a fake spell, Hermione!" Neville pointed out.

"Rubbish," said Hermione. "You've read his books — look at all those amazing things he's done — "

"He says he's done," Ron muttered.


	14. Chap 13 - Mudbloods, Suspicions & Voices

Chapter 13 – Mudbloods, Suspicions and Voices

 **Author's Note: I am very sorry I haven't updated this fanfic! There has been happening lot of stuff lately, ranging from the laptop not working, having internal family problems and problems at work, and everything has been limiting my chances to work in the story. Since the app doesn't let me upload the story file and it also doesn't let me copy it completely (I think it has a character limit or something...) I couldn't update it in time. I ask for your patience. This fanfic won't die just yet. Shout out to the new followers/favorites to this story: _Halo99Elite_ , _Ironknight3307_ , _suprajasrinivasrao_ and _Mary Sue Lover_!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter!**

* * *

Harry spent a lot of time over the next few days dodging out of sight whenever he saw Gilderoy Lockhart coming down a corridor.

Hedwig was still angry with Harry about the disasterous car journey and Ron's wand was still malfunctioning, surpassing itself on Friday morning by shooting out of Ron's hand in Charms and hitting tiny old Professor Flitwick squarely between the eyes, creating a large, throbbing green boil where it had struck. So with one thing and another, Harry was quite glad to reach the weekend. He, Ron, Neville and Hermione were planning to visit Hagrid on Saturday morning. Andrew had the special Potions class with Snape so he wouldn't be going with them. Harry, however, was shaken awake several hours earlier than he would have liked by Oliver Wood, Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

"Whassamatter?" said Harry groggily.

"Quidditch practice!" said Wood. "Come on!"

Harry squinted at the window. There was a thin mist hanging across the pink-and-gold sky. Now that he was awake, he couldn't understand how he could have slept through the racket the birds were making.

"Oliver," Harry croaked. "It's the crack of dawn."

"Exactly," said Wood. He was a tall and burly sixth year and, at the moment, his eyes were gleaming with a crazed enthusiasm. "It's part of our new training program. Come on, grab your broom, and let's go," said Wood heartily. "None of the other teams have started training yet; we're going to be first off the mark this year — "

Yawning and shivering slightly, Harry climbed out of bed and tried to find his Quidditch robes.

"Good man," said Wood. "Meet you on the field in fifteen minutes."

When he'd found his scarlet team robes and pulled on his cloak for warmth, Harry scribbled a note to Ron and Neville explaining where he'd gone and went down the spiral staircase to the common room, his Nimbus Two Thousand on his shoulder. He had just reached the portrait hole when there was a clatter behind him and Colin came dashing down the spiral staircase, his camera swinging madly around his neck and something clutched in his hand.

"I heard someone saying your name on the stairs, Harry! Look what I've got here! I've had it developed, I wanted to show you — "

Harry looked bemusedly at the photograph Colin was brandishing under his nose.

A moving, black-and-white Lockhart was tugging hard on an arm Harry recognized as his own. He was pleased to see that his photographic self was putting up a good fight and refusing to be dragged into view. As Harry watched, Lockhart gave up and slumped, panting, against the white edge of the picture.

"It's a nice picture and all, but sorry Colin, I'm in a hurry — Quidditch practice — "

He climbed through the portrait hole.

"Oh, wow! Wait for me! I've never watched a Quidditch game before!"

Colin scrambled through the hole after him.

"It'll be really boring," Harry said quickly, but Colin ignored him, his face shining with excitement.

"You were the youngest House player in a hundred years, weren't you, Harry? Weren't you?" said Colin, trotting alongside him. "You must be brilliant. I've never flown. Is it easy? Is that your own broom? Is that the best one there is?"

Harry didn't know how to get rid of him. It was like having an extremely talkative shadow.

"I don't really understand Quidditch," said Colin breathlessly. "Is it true there are four balls? And two of them fly around trying to knock people off their brooms?"

"Yes," said Harry heavily, resigned to explaining the complicated rules of Quidditch. "They're called Bludgers. There are two Beaters on each team who carry clubs to beat the Bludgers away from their side. Fred and George Weasley are the Gryffindor Beaters."

"And what are the other balls for?" Colin asked, tripping down a couple of steps because he was gazing open-mouthed at Harry.

"Well, the Quaffle — that's the biggish red one — is the one that scores goals. Three Chasers on each team throw the Quaffle to each other and try and get it through the goal posts at the end of the pitch — they're three long poles with hoops on the end."

"And the fourth ball — "

" — is the Golden Snitch," said Harry, "and it's very small, very fast, and difficult to catch. But that's what the Seeker's got to do, because a game of Quidditch doesn't end until the Snitch has been caught. And whichever team's Seeker gets the Snitch earns his team an extra hundred and fifty points."

"And you're the Gryffindor Seeker, aren't you?" said Colin in awe.

"Yes," said Harry as they left the castle and started across the dew-drenched grass. "And there's the Keeper, too. He guards the goal posts. That's it, really."

But Colin didn't stop questioning Harry all the way down the sloping lawns to the Quidditch field, and Harry only shook him off when he reached the changing rooms; Colin called after him in a piping voice, "I'll go and get a good seat, Harry!" and hurried off to the stands.

The rest of the Gryffindor team were already in the changing room. Wood was the only person who looked truly awake. Fred and George Weasley were sitting, puffy-eyed and tousle-haired, next to fourth year Alicia Spinnet, who seemed to be nodding off against the wall behind her. Her fellow Chasers, Katie Bell and Angelina Johnson, were yawning side by side opposite them.

"There you are, Harry, what kept you?" said Wood briskly. "Now, I wanted a quick talk with you all before we actually get onto the field, because I spent the summer devising a whole new training program, which I really think will make all the difference..."

Wood was holding up a large diagram of a Quidditch field, on which were drawn many lines, arrows, and crosses in different-colored inks. He took out his wand, tapped the board, and the arrows began to wiggle over the diagram like caterpillars. As Wood launched into a speech about his new tactics, Fred Weasley's head drooped right onto Alicia Spinnet's shoulder and he began to snore.

The first board took nearly twenty minutes to explain, but there was another board under that, and a third under that one. Harry sank into a stupor as Wood droned on and on.

"So," said Wood, at long last, jerking Harry from a wistful fantasy about what he could be eating for breakfast at this very moment up at the castle. "Is that clear? Any questions?"

"I've got a question, Oliver," said George, who had woken with a start. "Why couldn't you have told us all this yesterday when we were awake?"

Wood wasn't pleased.

"Now, listen here, you lot," he said, glowering at them all. "We should have won the Quidditch Cup last year. We're easily the best team. But unfortunately — owing to circumstances beyond our control — "

Harry shifted guiltily in his seat. He had been knocked unconscious in the final match of the previous year, meaning that Gryffindor had been a player short and had suffered their worst defeat in three hundred years.

Wood took a moment to regain control of himself. Their last defeat was clearly still torturing him.

"So this year, we train harder than ever before... Okay, let's go and put our new theories into practice!"

Wood shouted, seizing his broomstick and leading the way out of the locker rooms. Stiff-legged and still yawning, his team followed.

They had been in the locker room so long that the sun was up completely now, although remnants of mist hung over the grass in the stadium. As Harry walked onto the field, he saw Ron, Neville and Hermione sitting in the stands.

"Aren't you finished yet?" called Ron incredulously.

"Haven't even started," said Harry, looking jealously at the toast and marmalade Ron and Hermione had brought out of the Great Hall. "Wood's been teaching us new moves."

"Here, Harry. I brought you something to snack on." Neville said while handing him a sandwich. Harry accepted the sandwich gratefully and devoured it while he mounted his broomstick and kicked at the ground, soaring up into the air. The cool morning air whipped his face, waking him far more effectively than Wood's long talk. It felt wonderful to be back on the Quidditch field. He soared right around the stadium at full speed, racing Fred and George.

"What's that funny clicking noise?" called Fred as they hurtled around the corner.

Harry looked into the stands. Colin was sitting in one of the highest seats, his camera raised, taking picture after picture, the sound strangely magnified in the deserted stadium.

"Look this way, Harry! This way!" he cried shrilly.

"Who's that?" said Fred.

"Oh Merlin, it had to be Colin…," Harry sighed, putting on a spurt of speed that took him as far away as possible from Colin.

"What's going on?" said Wood, frowning, as he skimmed through the air toward them. "Why's that first year taking pictures? I don't like it. He could be a Slytherin spy, trying to find out about our new training program."

"He's in Gryffindor," said Harry quickly.

"And the Slytherins don't need a spy, Oliver," said George.

"What makes you say that?" said Wood testily.

"Because they're here in person," said George, pointing.

Several people in green robes were walking onto the field, broomsticks in their hands. Farther behind, he saw Andrew running towards the stands.

"I don't believe it!" Wood hissed in outrage. "I booked the field for today! We'll see about this!"

Wood shot toward the ground, landing rather harder than he meant to in his anger, staggering slightly as he dismounted. Harry, Fred, and George followed.

"Flint!" Wood bellowed at the Slytherin Captain. "This is our practice time! We got up specially! You can clear off now!"

Marcus Flint was even larger than Wood. He had a look of trollish cunning on his face as he replied, "Plenty of room for all of us, Wood."

Angelina, Alicia, and Katie had come over, too. There were no girls on the Slytherin team, who stood shoulder to shoulder, facing the Gryffindors, leering to a man.

"But I booked the field!" said Wood, positively spitting with rage. "I booked it!"

"Ah," said Flint. "But I've got a specially signed note here from Professor Snape."

Wood snatched the note from Flint's hand and read aloud.

 _ **I, Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the Quidditch field owinq to the need to train their new Seeker.**_

"You've got a new Seeker?" said Wood, distracted. "Where?"

And from behind the six large figures before them came a seventh, smaller boy, smirking all over his pale, pointed face. It was Draco Malfoy.

"Aren't you Lucius Malfoy's son?" said Fred, looking at Malfoy with dislike.

"Funny you should mention Draco's father," said Flint as the whole Slytherin team smiled still more broadly.

"Let me show you the generous gift he's made to the Slytherin team."

All seven of them held out their broomsticks. Seven highly polished, brand-new handles and seven sets of fine gold lettering spelling the words Nimbus Two Thousand and One gleamed under the Gryffindors' noses in the early morning sun.

"Very latest model. Only came out last month," said Flint carelessly, flicking a speck of dust from the end of his own. "I believe it outstrips the old Two Thousand series by a considerable amount. As for the old Cleansweeps" — he smiled nastily at Fred and

George, who were both clutching Cleansweep Fives — "sweeps the board with them."

None of the Gryffindor team could think of anything to say for a moment. Malfoy was smirking so broadly his cold eyes were reduced to slits.

"Oh, look," said Flint. "A field invasion."

Ron, Neville and Hermione were crossing the grass, spearheaded by Andrew to see what was going on.

"What's happening?" Ron asked Harry. "Why aren't you playing? And what's he doing here?"

He was looking at Malfoy, taking in his Slytherin Quidditch robes.

"I'm the new Slytherin Seeker, Weasley," said Malfoy, smugly. "Everyone's just been admiring the brooms my father's bought our team."

Ron gaped, openmouthed, at the seven superb broomsticks in front of him.

"Good, aren't they?" said Malfoy smoothly. "But perhaps the Gryffindor team will be able to raise some gold and get new brooms, too. You could raffle off those Cleansweep Fives; I expect a museum would bid for them."

The Slytherin team howled with laughter.

"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in," said Hermione sharply. "They got in on pure talent."

The smug look on Malfoy's face flickered.

"No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood," he spat.

Harry knew at once that Malfoy had said something really bad because there was an instant uproar at his words. Flint had to dive in front of Malfoy to stop Fred and George jumping on him, Alicia shrieked, "How dare you!", and Ron plunged his hand into his robes, pulled out his wand, yelling, "You'll pay for that one, Malfoy!" and pointed it furiously under Flint's arm at Malfoy's face. But Andrew was faster.

" _Flipendo_!"

A loud bang echoed around the stadium and a jet of blue light shot out of Andrew's wand but pointed at Ron, hitting him in the stomach and sending him reeling backward onto the grass. Immediately after, a sickly acid green spell followed by a pinkish spell had hit Malfoy in the face.

"Ron! Ron! Are you all right?" squealed Hermione.

Ron opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead he gave a hacking cough and shouted at Andrew angrily.

"OI! WHAT GIVES?! WHY YOU'D SHOOT ME?!"

"Shut up Ronald, and look at Malfoy!"

The Gryffindor quartet and the whole Quidditch team turned to look at the Malfoy scion.

Malfoy looked sick. He dropped to all fours and he was hiccupping slugs and then his mouth was filled with soap.

"Well, well, Draco. It seems someone has a dirty little mouth. I'd rather see you spewing slugs than those slurs of yours, you prick. It seems Mummy never cleaned your mouth with soap either." Andrew said in a cruel fashion.

The Gryffindor team guffawed in laughter, while the Slytherin team was paralyzed with anger.

Wood was doubled up, hanging onto his broomstick for support. The Slytherins were gathered around Malfoy, who kept belching large, glistening slugs and soap bubbles. Nobody seemed to want to touch him.

"You'll pay for that, Rivers!" Malfoy coughed after the jinxes slightly subsided and shot a weak Bludgeoning hex towards the Ravenclaw and coughed so his aim went a bit off and it hit on Andrew's right leg.

Andrew screamed in pain and his trousers were starting to tinge red. Malfoy had fractured his leg. The Gryffindor team made a wall around him to protect Andrew from further retaliation.

Colin started to take pictures of Andrew's leg and it was annoying Harry already.

"Get out of the way, Colin!" said Harry angrily. He and Hermione supported Andrew out of the stadium and across the grounds toward the edge of the forest, followed quickly by Ron and Neville.

"Nearly there, Andrew," said Hermione as the gamekeeper's cabin came into view. "You'll be all right in a minute — almost there — "

They were within twenty feet of Hagrid's house when the front door opened, but it wasn't Hagrid who emerged. Gilderoy Lockhart, wearing robes of palest mauve today, came striding out.

"Quick, behind here," Harry hissed, dragging Andrew behind a nearby bush. Hermione followed, somewhat reluctantly.

"It's a simple matter if you know what you're doing!" Lockhart was saying loudly to Hagrid. "If you need help, you know where I am! I'll let you have a copy of my book. I'm surprised you haven't already got one — I'll sign one tonight and send it over. Well, good-bye!" And he strode away toward the castle.

Harry waited until Lockhart was out of sight, then pulled Andrew out of the bush and up to Hagrid's front door. They knocked urgently.

Hagrid appeared at once, looking very grumpy, but his expression brightened when he saw who it was.

"Bin wonderin' when you'd come ter see me — come in, come in — thought you mighta bin Professor Lockhart back again — "

Hagrid saw the state of the teenagers in front of them.

"Wha'… wha' happened to yer, Andy? Why is yer leg all tattered up?" Hagrid expressed in great surprise.

Harry and Hermione handed the task of supporting Andrew to Ron and Neville while they picked up the other's bags.

Ron and Neville supported Andrew over the threshold into the one-roomed cabin, which had an enormous bed in one corner, a fire crackling merrily in the other. Hagrid carefully picked up the Ravenclaw off from their hands and placed him softly on his bed. The other four sat down, looking grim at the state of their friend.

"So, can anyone 'ere care ter explain wha' just happened to Andrew?" Hagrid asked while he was bustling around making them tea. His boarhound, Fang, was slobbering over Harry.

Everyone fell silent and no one answered. Harry tried to change the subject.

"What did Lockhart want with you, Hagrid?" Harry asked, scratching Fang's ears.

"Givin' me advice on gettin' kelpies out of a well," growled Hagrid, moving a half-plucked rooster off his scrubbed table and setting down the teapot. "Like I don' know. An' bangin' on about some banshee he banished. If one word of it was true, I'll eat my kettle."

It was most unlike Hagrid to criticize a Hogwarts teacher, and Harry looked at him in surprise. Hermione, however, said in a voice somewhat higher than usual, "I think you're being a bit unfair. Professor Dumbledore obviously thought he was the best man for the job — "

"He was the on'y man for the job," said Hagrid, offering them a plate of treacle toffee, while Andrew grunted in pain on Hagrid's bed. "An' I mean the on'y one. Gettin' very difficult ter find anyone fer the Dark Arts job. People aren't too keen ter take it on, see. They're startin' ter think it's jinxed. No one's lasted long fer a while now. So tell me," said Hagrid, jerking his head at Andrew. "What happened ter him? was he tryin' ter curse?"

"Malfoy called Hermione something — it must've been really bad, because everyone went wild."

"It was bad," said Ron, in hot anger. "Malfoy called her 'Mudblood,' Hagrid — "

Hagrid looked outraged.

"He didn'!" he growled at Hermione.

"He did," she said. "But I don't know what it means. I could tell it was really rude, of course — "

"It's about the most insulting thing he could think of," gasped Andrew in pain.

"Mudblood's a really foul name for someone who is Muggle-born — you know, non-magic parents. There are some wizards — like Malfoy's family — who think they're better than everyone else because they're what people call pure-blood." Neville offered.

"I mean, the rest of us know it doesn't make any difference at all. Look at me — I'm a pure-blood and I can hardly stand a cauldron the right way up."

"Don't sell yourself short, Nev. You may be a bit lacking at Potions but you are the best in Herbology, even better than I am." Hermione said meekly.

"An' they haven't invented a spell our Hermione can' do," said Hagrid proudly, making Hermione go a brilliant shade of magenta.

"It's a disgusting thing to call someone," said Andrew, wiping his sweaty brow with a shaking hand. "Dirty blood, see. Common blood. It's ridiculous. Most wizards these days are half-blood anyway. I'm three quarters of magical blood! If we hadn't married Muggles we'd've died out."

He ducked out of sight again due to his pain.

"Well, I don' still understan' why Andrew has his leg all bloody," said Hagrid loudly.

"Ron tried to curse Malfoy with his broken wand but Andrew shot a spell to Ron, which knocked the stuffing out of him and then he shot two quick spells at Malfoy: a slug spewing hex and the classical household hex: the soapy mouth hex." Hermione answered.

"'Spect Lucius Malfoy will come marchin' up ter school since yeh'd cursed his son." said Hagrid a bit darkly.

"Harry," said Hagrid abruptly as though struck by a sudden thought. "Gotta bone ter pick with yeh. I've heard you've bin givin' out signed photos. How come I haven't got one?"

Furious, Harry wrenched his teeth apart.

"I have not been giving out signed photos," he said hotly. "If Lockhart's still spreading that around — "

But then he saw that Hagrid was laughing.

"I'm on'y jokin'," he said, patting Harry genially on the back and sending him face first into the table. "I knew yeh hadn't really. I told Lockhart yeh didn' need teh. Yer more famous than him without tryin'."

"Bet he didn't like that," said Harry, sitting up and rubbing his chin.

"Don' think he did," said Hagrid, his eyes twinkling. "An' then I told him I'd never read one o' his books an' he decided ter go."

"Come an' see what I've bin growin'," said Hagrid as Harry and Hermione finished the last of their tea.

In the small vegetable patch behind Hagrid's house were a dozen of the largest pumpkins Harry had ever seen. Each was the size of a large boulder.

"Gettin' on well, aren't they?" said Hagrid happily.

"Fer the Halloween feast ... should be big enough by then."

"What've you been feeding them?" said Harry.

Hagrid looked over his shoulder to check that they were alone.

"Well, I've bin givin' them — you know — a bit o' help."

Harry noticed Hagrid's flowery pink umbrella leaning against the back wall of the cabin. Harry had had reason to believe before now that this umbrella was not all it looked; in fact, he had the strong impression that Hagrid's old school wand was concealed inside it. Hagrid wasn't supposed to use magic. He had been expelled from Hogwarts in his third year, but Harry had never found out why — any mention of the matter and Hagrid would clear his throat loudly and become mysteriously deaf until the subject was changed.

"An Engorgement Charm, I suppose?" said Hermione, halfway between disapproval and amusement. "Well, you've done a good job on them."

"That's what yer little sister said," said Hagrid, nodding at Ron. "Met her jus' yesterday." Hagrid looked sideways at Harry, his beard twitching. "Said she was jus' lookin' round the grounds, but I reckon she was hopin' she might run inter someone else at my house." He winked at Harry. "If yeh ask me, she wouldn' say no ter a signed — "

"Oh, shut up," said Harry. Ron snorted with laughter.

It was nearly lunchtime and as Harry had only had the sandwich and one bit of treacle toffee since dawn, he was keen to go back to school to eat. They said good-bye to Hagrid and walked back up to the castle, Ron and Harry carrying Andrew up.

They had barely set foot in the cool entrance hall when a voice rang out, "There you are, Potter — Weasley." Professor McGonagall was walking toward them, looking stern. "You will both do your detentions this evening — What in the dear heavens happened to you, Rivers?"

The quintet silenced themselves and did not dare to see McGonagall in the eyes.

"It seems you won't tell me willingly. Let's go to my office." Professor McGonagall said sharply, guiding the five of them up to the first floor.

"In.", Professor McGonagall said sharply. They placed Andrew on one of the chairs that the Transfiguration professor had in front of her desk. Hermione sat in the chair next to it, while Harry, Ron, and Neville stood behind them.

"First of all, can any of the five of you tell me what happened to Mr. Rivers?" asked Professor McGonagall.

Harry, Ron and Neville didn't respond. Andrew was about to respond when Hermione interjected.

"It happened earlier in the afternoon. The Gryffindor team went to practice but the Slytherin team invaded the Quidditch Pitch. Apparently they were going to train their new seeker, Draco Malfoy. Malfoy chastised and tried to goad the Gryffindors into fighting."

Andrew rose his hand to stop her from continuing the story. She stopped but he kept telling what happened.

"When Hermione told them that the Gryffindors got into the team by talent rather than by buying their way in, Malfoy called her a Mudblood. Ron, in his outrage, tried to curse Malfoy with his broken wand but I shot a _Flipendo_ spell to Ron, which knocked him out of the way and then I shot two quick spells at Malfoy: a slug spewing hex and the soapy mouth hex."

McGonagall's brows shot upwards in surprise. "A _Flipendo_ then two hexes in straight succession?"'

Andrew meekly nodded. McGonagall stood up from her chair, grabbed a bit of powder from a jar and said: "Professor Snape's office!" She put her head inside the fireplace and called Snape over.

"Severus, please come over. And bring Mister Malfoy with you."

She retreated from the fireplace and a few seconds later, a very disgruntled Snape and an annoyed Malfoy.

"Minerva, I assume that this call is about why Malfoy is belching slugs all over my office floor and you have these five in yours." Snape said, glaring at the Gryffindors. Neville and Hermione shrunk at the glare, Harry and Ron glared back and Andrew didn't even look at the Potions Master.

"Indeed, Severus. Miss Granger and Mister Rivers were informing me about what happened. We stopped when Mister Rivers deflected Mister Weasley's attempt to attack Mister Malfoy and attacked Malfoy with two hexes, making it three spells, all in a row. They still haven't told me why Mister Rivers' leg is all bloody."

"Three spells in a row? Which spells?" asked Professor Snape.

" _Flipendo_ towards Mister Weasley, Slug Vomiting Hex and the Soapy Mouth Hex."

Snape sent a calculating look towards Andrew, who glanced quickly at the Potions master and evaded the look as quickly. Then, Neville interrupted.

"A-a-a-a-at that moment, w-w-w-w-we laughed at Malfoy's misfortune and then he attacked Andrew. When the spell hit, the leg looked like broken and he started bleeding profusely. We took him to Hagrid's since it was the nearest place."

Snape stepped towards Andrew and carefully cut the pant leg with a Diffindo spell, exposing the damaged area. McGonagall gasped at the damage and called Madam Pomfrey over with some potions.

"What happened here? Who did this?" asked Madam Pomfrey angrily.

"Mister Malfoy retaliated towards Mister Rivers after publicly shaming him AFTER he publicly insulted Miss Granger because of her bloodline." McGonagall told her with a grim tone.

Madam Pomfrey used a diagnostic spell and she started muttering to herself.

"Broken femur… affected muscles…Bludgeoning hex…"

Snape turned around to Malfoy.

"A Bludgeoning Hex? Are you out of your mind?!"

"I…I…" stammered Malfoy, surprised of being the one receiving the ire of his head of house.

"One month detention with Professor McGonagall and me. Two weeks with each of us. Also, I will be telling your father about this." Snape informed Malfoy, who was about to blow up in anger.

"And as for you, Mister Rivers, three weeks without the access to the Advance Potions lab and a week of the detention with me. I will also tell your father." Andrew was resigned with his current fate.

Madam Pomfrey was holding a vial.

"You will be for a painful night, Mr. Rivers." Madam Pomfrey said while helping Andrew drink a pain-reducing potion.

Madam Pomfrey and Professor Snape left the office through the Floo with Andrew in tow. Professor McGonagall turned back to the other three.

"Miss Granger, Mister Longbottom, you two should be going to Gryffindor tower." And the two left outside the office.

"What're we doing, Professor?" said Ron, nervously suppressing a squeak.

"You will be polishing the silver in the trophy room with Mr. Filch," said Professor McGonagall. "And no magic, Weasley — elbow grease."

Ron gulped. Argus Filch, the caretaker, was loathed by every student in the school.

"And you, Potter, will be helping Professor Lockhart answer his fan mail," said Professor McGonagall.

"Oh no — Professor, can't I go and do the trophy room, too?" said Harry desperately.

"Certainly not," said Professor McGonagall, raising her eyebrows. "Professor Lockhart requested you particularly. Tomorrow. Eight o'clock sharp, both of you."

Harry and Ron slouched into the Great Hall in states of deepest gloom, Hermione behind them, wearing a well-you-did-break-school-rules sort of expression. Harry didn't enjoy his shepherd's pie as much as he'd thought. Both he and Ron felt they'd got the worse deal.

"Filch'll have me there all night," said Ron heavily.

"No magic! There must be about a hundred cups in that room. I'm no good at Muggle cleaning."

"I'd swap anytime," said Harry hollowly. "I've had loads of practice with the Dursleys. Answering Lockhart's fan mail... he'll be a nightmare..."

Saturday afternoon seemed to melt away, and in what seemed like no time, it was five minutes to eight, and Harry was dragging his feet along the second-floor corridor to Lockhart's office. He gritted his teeth and knocked.

The door flew open at once. Lockhart beamed down at him. Next to him was a Hufflepuff student from his year, although she looked a bit dazed. Harry thought of that as odd.

"You may go back to your common room, Miss Perks. Ah, here's the scalawag!" he said. "Come in, Harry, come in — "

Shining brightly on the walls by the light of many candles were countless framed photographs of Lockhart. He had even signed a few of them. Another large pile lay on his desk.

"You can address the envelopes!" Lockhart told Harry, as though this was a huge treat. "This first one's to Gladys Gudgeon, bless her — huge fan of mine — "

The minutes snailed by. Harry let Lockhart's voice wash over him, occasionally saying, "Mmm" and "Right" and "Yeah." Now and then he caught a phrase like, "Fame's a fickle friend, Harry," or "Celebrity is as celebrity does, remember that."

The candles burned lower and lower, making the light dance over the many moving faces of Lockhart watching him. Harry moved his aching hand over what felt like the thousandth envelope, writing out Veronica Smethley's address. It must be nearly time to leave, Harry thought miserably; please let it be nearly time...

And then he heard something — something quite apart from the spitting of the dying candles and Lockhart's prattle about his fans.

It was a voice, a voice to chill the bone marrow, a voice of breathtaking, ice-cold venom.

"Come... come to me... Let me rip you... Let me tear you... Let me kill you..."

Harry gave a huge jump and a large lilac blot appeared on Veronica Smethley's street.

"What?" he said loudly.

"I know!" said Lockhart. "Six solid months at the top of the best-seller list! Broke all records!"

"No," said Harry frantically. "That voice!"

"Sorry?" said Lockhart, looking puzzled. "What voice?"

"That — that voice that said — didn't you hear it?"

Lockhart was looking at Harry in high astonishment.

"What are you talking about, Harry? Perhaps you're getting a little drowsy? Great Scott — look at the time!

"We've been here nearly four hours! I'd never have believed it — the time's flown, hasn't it?"

Harry didn't answer. He was straining his ears to hear the voice again, but there was no sound now except for Lockhart telling him he mustn't expect a treat like this every time he got detention. Feeling dazed, Harry left.

It was so late that the Gryffindor common room was almost empty. Harry went straight up to the dormitory. Ron wasn't back yet. Neville was sitting on the edge of his bed, silently looking at Harry. Harry pulled on his pajamas, got into bed, and waited. Half an hour later, Ron arrived, nursing his right arm and bringing a strong smell of polish into the darkened room.

"My muscles have all seized up," he groaned, sinking on his bed. "Fourteen times he made me buff up that Quidditch Cup before he was satisfied. And then I crashed onto a shelf and muck fell all over a Special Award for Services to the School. Took ages to get the slime off. How was it with Lockhart?"

Keeping his voice low so as not to wake Dean and Seamus, Harry told Ron and Neville exactly what he had heard.

"And Lockhart said he couldn't hear it?" said Ron. Harry could see him frowning in the moonlight.

"D'you think he was lying? But I don't get it — even someone invisible would've had to open the door." Neville inquired.

"I know," said Harry, lying back in his four-poster and staring at the canopy above him. "I don't get it either."


End file.
